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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years

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into the gloom you left behind

Title taken from the poem It Bruises, Too by Kwame Dawes.

Prompt: Left Behind

TMNT IDW.

(tw kidnapping, family separation, very tangent references to noncon, grief, guilt, implied mind control, mental health issues, catatonia)

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

Dear Leo,

I honestly don’t know if this letter will find you. I’m going to print copies off of Don’s computer and leave them all over the city, stick them in places we used to go together—some of our good scavenging spots, that library you like, that one cool spot by the river, the access tunnel into Broadway, some of your favorite spots in Central Park or the High Line. Like messages in a bottle, cause if you leave enough one's gotta find its destination.

I’ll even try to leave a few near the Foot stronghold if I can. That place stinks, btw—how can you stand it, dude?

Hold on, I should probably let you know who's writing to you just in case the amnesia theory's right. In fact, maybe I should give you a rundown on who you are while I'm at it.

Your name's Leo--full name Hamato Leonardo. You're a kickass leader, an amazing ninja, and you love to read even though you don't give yourself a lot of time for it. You've got a dad who's also a teacher and a rat, a mom who loves you a ton even if she's not around you anymore, and three awesome younger brothers: Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo. I've drawn a picture of us on the bottom, so you can get a better sense of who we are. Sorry if it's a little rough.

We've got some cool friends, too, but I don't want to name them in case this ends up in the wrong hands. The rest of us are already way too deep in...I guess you could call it a war? And we might be on different sides. Don't worry, though! It's not your fault and you're gonna remember where you belong pretty soon.

I'm Mikey, your youngest and coolest brother, and I'm writing to you because...because, well, I know you don't like it when we curse, but we fucked up, Leo. See, we were running from this guy named Shredder, a really bad dude who killed us in our past lives (Donnie wants me to add "might have" so fine, whatever, he might have killed us in our maybe past lives).

Anyway, he wants us dead now, and he hurt our friend Casey real bad, so we were running away from him trying to get Casey to the hospital. Only you got hit by a tranquilizer or something and you fell, and we didn't see you. None of us even noticed we were gone until we were at the hospital, and by the time we went back to look for you it was too late.

You were...changed. You didn't recognize us anymore. You were all weird and violent and we were so scared, but under it all I could tell you were hurting. Shredder hurt you so deep you couldn't even figure out who or where you were, not really.

I know it's not you, though. It's not. I don't know exactly what happened to you, but I'm trying to keep believing that you didn't mean to hurt us. The Leo I know would never attack his own brothers like that.

Although I guess it wouldn't be entirely out of left field. We did leave you behind, after all. I guess that's why this sort of feels like an apology letter as much as anything.

I'm sorry, Leo. So very, very sorry. I'm sorry this happened to you and I sorry we messed up and I swear on my life that when you come home, we'll never leave you behind again.

I say when and not if because you will come home. We've been working around the clock to get you back, trying to figure out how to get you away from Shredhead. There's an answer to what's been done to you, a cure.

I don't know if the Tin Can used electricity on you like the Winter Soldier, or magic like Splinter thinks, or demons like in all those movies you don't let me watch, but we can figure it out. We're smart that way.

Although I gotta admit, it is hard to get our shit together the way things are right now. I don't think I ever realized how much work you put into leading and coordinating us, keeping us all on task. We're all guilty and stressed out and we keep getting into fights when we're together, fights I know you would have shut down right away.

But even when we fight, we agree about how much you love you. Because you are loved, Leo, so very much. You're one of the most loved turtles in New York, maybe in the whole world. I don't know if it feels like it right now, but you've got a whole family who loves you to bits and who's not going to stop before you're home.

Raph misses you a ton, you know. You guys fought before everything happened, but it doesn't matter anymore, not that it ever really did. He'd do anything to get you back. And Don's working himself to the bone trying to figure out how to help you, to give you the protection you need. Master Splinter spends every day meditating, trying to figure out how everything fits together, how to help you the most.

And me? I do what I can. I'm trying to keep your room clean, you know, without messing up your stuff too much. When I'm not doing that or out looking for you I've been trying out some new Japanese dishes, stuff I think you'd like for your welcome home feast. Cool, yeah?

If that's not enough incentive, you'll be able to pick the show for every movie night for a month after you come back. We've decided. Raph's gonna bitch and moan about it later, but whatever, he'll live. I don't even care if your stuff is burning, because seeing how happy it makes you is enough.

As I'm writing this I'm thinking about what you might be doing right now. I want to think you just train all day like you used to and bitch at Karai or whatever, that all Shredder makes you do is kick some Savate around, but I don't know.

He could be making you do bad things, or doing bad things to you, things we can't see. Sometimes I hear Donnie and Raph talking about it, but they always clam up when they walk by. I think they know something I don't but I'm too scared to ask.

And you know what? I don't care. Whatever he makes you do, whatever happens while you're with the Foot, you're still our brother. There's nothing you can do to make us stop loving you and doing everything we can to help you heal. We'll look after you, Leo, I promise, same way you look after us.

You're going to come home, and then we're all going to kick Shredder to the moon and go out for the best pizza we can find. You know, Chicago-level pizza. That's a promise, big brother, and I always keep my promises to you, same way you keep your promises to me.

I have to go now, dude. I've got a meeting with someone who's going to help me figure out how to get you away from Shredhead and bring you home. I'll tell you more when you get back, okay? You'll want to hear all about it, and you know how much I like to tell stories.

Love love love love,

Mikey

P.S. I promise not to watch any more episodes of She-Ra until you get back. Yes, you do too watch it with me, even if you're supposed to be way too macho. I've noticed that you're in the room every time I turn it on, you know.

Oroku Saki doesn't crumple the letter or throw it at the wall, although the paper crinkles ever so slightly as he lowers his hand. He lifts his head, gaze unreadable through the helmet as his eyes bore into the black-clad man kneeling before him.

"Where did he find this?"

The man shifts a little, eyes darting anxiously. "Lion...no, Princess and Crow, my lord."

Saki nods. "I see. Outside a pizza shop?"

"Yes. DG's Corner, I think it was called. Should we stake it out?"

"Perhaps. I will have to think on it." The Shredder turns the letter over in his handle, examining the picture carefully drawn in colored pencil. A rat and a woman hold hands over four small turtles in red, purple, orange, and blue. Each figure is carefully labeled, including the one in blue, who is designated You (Leo).

"Did you see when or why he picked it up?"

"No, my lord. I apologize," the man replies, eyes downcast. "He was leading the group when we realized he'd stopped, and we found him holding the letter in his hands."

Saki nods slowly. "What happened?"

The man shrugs. "He just looked kind of confused, my lord. A little blank. We could see him staring at the paper, but it didn't really look like he was reading; his eyes weren't moving. He looked so out of it we thought he'd been hit with--"

"And then what?"

"Well, he looked up at us--through us, almost. It was...odd." The man squirms slightly, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on the ground. "I asked him what it was, and he said he didn't know. I mean, I could tell it was English, so I wasn't sure how he couldn't figure out something, but he just told us he had to go back home. By the time we got back to the base, he was, well..."

He gestures to the turtle sitting next to him. Oroku Leonardo sits with his back straight, chewing his lip gently as he stares off into the middle distance. He clearly has not processed what his companion, his erstwhile second on his last mission, has said, or any other part of the conversation. He has clearly not been processing anything for a while.

Saki sinks to his knees before the little turtle, lifting Leonardo's chin. "Her spell's fighting back, good," he says, almost to himself. "I hope she manages to shore the cracks up properly."

"Sir?" the other Foot soldier asks.

"Take the chunin to Mistress Kitsune," Saki orders, not looking up. "She will undoubtedly be able to help him. When she's done there, bring him back to my chambers."

"Yes, sir," the Foot soldier says, rising to his feet. He's got the look of a man carefully not knowing the full meaning of back to my chambers.

"Oh, and Lieutenant?" Saki calls, giving Leonardo a little nudge. The boy stands up obediently, if a little hesitantly, and Saki rises to join him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have Kitsune take a look at you and the other soldiers on that mission as well. It wouldn't do to get any unseemly rumors started."

The man's eyes widen slightly behind the mask, but his respect and fear for Saki are stronger than his terror of Kitsune. "Yes, sir." He bows out of the room and heads off down the hall, Leonardo trotting at his heels.

Saki looks back at the troublesome letter. Tracking down and disposing of them all will be tricky, but luckily his soldiers are very good at destroying things without question. Leonardo will never have his doubt or mind shaken by such a pitiful silly little piece of paper again.

He turns to the nearby fire and tosses the paper in among the flames. It's gone all too soon, chewed up and devoured, with nothing but a bit more smoke to mark the way.

_____

The street names Lion, Princess and Crow, and DG's pizza shop are shoutouts to my amazing fellow writers and freaks-in-arms @leonsi, @princessgemma12, @crow-dog-blogs, and @dg-darkfantasy.

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wherethingscomebackx · 4 years

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Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!! As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

#larry #larry stylinson #larry fic rec #harry styles #louis tomlinson #fic rec #one direction #1d #one direction fic rec #larry fan fiction #updated because I'm an idiot and added a zarry fic

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countessofravenclaw · 2 years

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Memories of Time: Chapter twenty-three

What if you woke up one morning and realized that you were back in the beginning of your story? But to your surprise, you remember how that story will play out. Did you go back in time?

Studio OnBeat: class of 2015 Fanclub

Ambar: EVERYONE STAY AWAY FROM DELFI!

Matteo: It can’t be as bad as that

Ambar: I have never seen her this angry. She looks like she would very much like to kill someone. Gastón should definitely stay as far away from her as possible.

Gastón: I’ll do that happily, but maybe this is a good thing. She can’t want to date me if she’d rather kill me.

Simon: All of this just from being kicked out of the competition?

Nina: Well, we all know Delfi and how dramatic she can get, but this does seem a bit much…

Ambar: You know, I have to agree… I’ll try to dig into it some more, see if there’s something else we should be aware of.

Luna scrolled through the messages while waiting for the theatre class to begin. She glanced at Matteo, who was sitting behind her. One good thing that could be said about their situation: Gastón had succeeded, and Luna and Simon had been offered his and Delfi’s place in the competition.

Now only the finale remained in their way. It was time to stop holding back and go full in. Her and Simon had to win, which wasn’t an easy task. Not only that, Ambar and Matteo NEEDED to become second. If both of those events didn’t happen, she didn’t know what was going to happen.

Luna had done her best with Simon, Ambar, and Matteo’s training, and she did believe that they were capable of achieving the feat that was required of them, but it still wasn’t going to be easy. She would be lying if she said they hadn’t been extremely lucky. The other competitors were nothing to be messed with. Okay, she knew that they would definitely be able to defeat Jim and Nico, but Perla and Tomas, who Luna didn’t remember ever speaking to, were really good.

“Chica Delivery, where are you?” Matteo nudged her, to shake her out of her thoughts. Mr. Perez had apparently come into the classroom and the class was starting. Just like last time, Luna and Matteo had been tasked with performing “Romeo and Juliet” and the performance would be happening in a moment. Truth be told, Luna had forgotten her lines at least six different times, as her and Matteo had done all the rehearsing in one speed session. She wasn't exactly looking forward to this, but all that they needed was Luna failing to pass a class right now, so she had to push through.

“So, today we’ll see the last of the performances,” Mr. Perez was saying. “Let’s start with… Romeo and Juliet.”

Well, it was best to get it out of the way. Luna stood up from her chair and walked to the front of the classroom. Matteo’s cocky grin was not really helping matters.

“Oh Romeo, Romeo, what brought you here?” Luna began, reciting her first line

“Love told me where you lived…” Matteo answered her with the most exaggerated, dramatic voice. “It counseled me, it guided my eyes toward this bench.”

It took Luna all the effort she could muster to not start laughing out loud. She couldn’t believe that Matteo had added that line in again. They had rehearsed at the park bench, as they had originally. They had done all the work one weekend while Luna was officially staying at Nina’s. Of course, she had actually been at Matteo’s, and they’d actually managed to get their school work done before getting distracted… anyways, the bottom line was that they had not rehearsed at the park bench.

“I was guided towards this bench, Juliet…” Luna realized that Matteo had repeated his line… her mind was absolutely blank. Yep, she had forgotten her lines, again. Good thing she never actually pursued acting—she would have not lasted a day on Broadway or the West End. And from what Nina had described—Her and Gastón had become quite the theatre enthusiasts while living in London and having access to all the West End shows—those shows were long and complicated, and she didn’t understand how anyone could remember all of it.

“Uhhmmm… This bench that stands in the way of our destiny, alas as it is our destiny to be apart,” Luna tried to improvise. That was terrible and didn’t make any sense, but wasn’t that just what Sheakpeare was all about? She could tell that Matteo was about the crack up, but he played along.

“But it’s destiny we need to defy, my dear Juliet. Not even the sun and the moon can stand in my way.” Matteo continued, abandoning the script completely, “but I shall defy space and time to have you, my dear beloved.” Luna stared at him for a moment. It was a very innocent line to anyone else’s ears, but she couldn’t believe that he was bringing the “time” up with other people listening. Maybe she had become a bit too jumpy from the now over three months of sneaking around and making secret plans. She tried to focus back on the scene at hand. “But Romeo, your ego will be the death of you.”

“I’d rather ride to my death than be without you,” Matteo continued dramatically. Then all of sudden he was kneeling in front of her. “So now I ask you my deal Juliet, your hand in marriage.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Perez had apparently gotten enough of their version of Shakespeare. The absence of a smile on Matteo’s face as he and Luna took their seats was uncharacteristic, and he seemed a bit more serious than usual.

“I can’t believe it. I forgot all my lines.” Luna laughed as she and Matteo stopped in the middle of the library before meeting the others.

“Well, I think we managed it quite well,” Matteo responded, leaning against a bookcase. “We should co-write a play together,” he continued with a mischievous smile, “and then use Nina’s name and get it published by her publisher.”

“I am sure she'd rather burn anything that we wrote before letting us do that,” Luna laughed. If her and Matteo ever tried to write anything even hinting at prose, Nina would die of horror after reading it. Matteo was good with lyrics, and even Luna had written some of her own, but their storytelling skills were not on par with modern standards.

“What do you mean? I am sure we’d do a splendid job.”

“Be serious, Chico Fresa.” Luna punched him playfully. “We’d be terrible playwrights. No matter how much our class was entertained.”

“The ending was good wasn’t it?”

“Definitely. How did you come up with the idea to propose?”

“Yeah about that…” Matteo started speaking, but Luna was only listening with one ear, so she didn’t register what he was saying. “I know this is not the most romantic place, but I wanted to…”

“Shhh,” Luna shushed him, “I hear someone… oh no, it’s Jim and Yam.” She had noticed them just in time, as the blonde and red-haired girls rounded the bookcase.

“Yeah, it was a great performance wasn’t it?” Matteo tried to play it casually. “Well, I have to go. I’ll see you later, Valente.” And Matteo left Luna alone with Jim and Yam.

The two girls hounded her at once. “Why were you alone here with Matteo?”

“Um, I came here to look for a book and ran into him.”

“Only that?” Yam asked with a teasing smile. “Come on, Luna, we saw you during theatre class.”

“What else would it be?” Luna’s heart picked up its pace as she was faced with Jim and Yam’s questioning.

“Luna, what is going on with Matteo? Tell us!” Jim went on.

“Nothing is going on with Matteo,” Luna lied. Of course, a lot was going on with Matteo. He was her boyfriend of over five years now, and she was sure they would have become something more soon if their lives had not turned upside down as they had. How was she supposed to get out of this situation?

“Are you sure? He clearly likes you, and he is the most popular guy at Blake and he is single. He’s been in everyone’s sights since he finished things with Ambar. If you don’t go for it now, he might not be available for much longer.” Part of Luna wanted to say that Matteo was hers, and everyone else should just back off, but she knew that she couldn’t. There would be a lot of explaining to do if she burst out and claimed Matteo as her boyfriend when they had spent the last three months trying to convince everyone otherwise.

“Luna! What are you doing here?” Almost as a god send, Nina appeared at Luna’s side.

“Nina, good you’re here. Please tell Luna that there’s something between her and Matteo.”

Luna saw Nina hide her face of horror very quickly. “I don’t understand. Where did you get that idea from?”

“You should have seen them today—”

“Girls, we would love to stay and chat, but we really need to be going.” Nina gripped Luna’s arms. “I promised Luna that I’d give her physics tutoring.”

“Thank you for getting me out of that.” Luna sighed as they hurried deeper into the library.

“Matteo sent me. Come on, others are waiting.”

***

“You have similar points of view. You could make a great team…” Ambar couldn’t focus on what Mr, Acosta was saying about pictures. She kept glancing at Delfi, who was still wearing that murderous expression she’d had the whole day. And there was no question about it, her eyes were sternly fixated on Gastón.

“Ughhh, imagine having to team up with Nina,” she started talking, probably for the first time that day. Ambar decided not to respond to Delfi’s comment. This far, she had been able to avoid badmouthing anyone too badly, even Matteo, and she really didn’t know how convincing she would be if she had to say something bad about Nina. She was like a little sister to her.

“Poor Gastón. Out of everyone, Mr. Acosta put him with her,” Delfi continued.

“Why do you even care?” Ambar couldn’t help but be a bit confused by Delfi’s comment Maybe Nina was right, and there was more to Delfi’s sour mood than just the competition defeat. Why would she care about who Gaston was paired up with, if she was this angry at him?

“Because I wanted to be paired with him.” Delfi stated like it was the obvious thing in the world.

This made Ambar even more confused. Delfi clearly had been angry at Gastón the whole day, and now all of a sudden she wasn’t anymore? It didn’t make any sense.“What?” She couldn’t keep it in. “Why…? I thought you were angry at him, since he blew the whole competition for you.”

“I was, but… still—”

Oh for goodness sake. Why had Ambar expected anything else from Delfi? She guessed she had just utterly forgotten how ride or die Delfi had been for Gastón, even going so far as catfishing him before giving up.

“Please, don’t tell me you still like him?” Ambar let the frustration show in her voice, to show that she didn't approve. “Isn’t it clear now that he won’t be interested in you? Maybe it’s time to give up.”

“Don’t you always say that I need to take what I want?” Delfi still didn’t tear her eyes from Gastón, “plus, I know why he isn’t interested.”

Ambar couldn’t think of anything to say, because she had no idea what Delfi meant. Of course, she herself knew why Gastón wasn’t interested in Delfi—he was engaged to the girl he had fallen in love with at age 17, and even without Nina, Gastón would never be interested in Delfi. Delfi wasn’t his type, her interests were way too out of his wheelhouse, no matter if she had brown hair. Delfi didn’t know how much there was under the surface to Gastón, things that Nina had brought out of him. But what did Delfi now think was holding him back? Ambar didn’t know.

“I heard him talking to someone in the Roller’s hallway after our turn in the competition.”

“What does that even mean?” Ambar tried to keep her poker face. “He could have been talking to anyone. It was probably Matteo.”

“He was talking to a girl,” Delfi continued. “And… he said he loved her.”

This made Ambar freeze. What kind of conversation had Delfi heard Nina and Gastón having? The good thing was that Delfi apparently had not recognized Nina’s voice, and the disaster that would have resulted from that had been avoided. “I’m still not understanding what you’re gonna do with this information. He has a girlfriend. That’s more reason to just forget him and move on.”

“Not until I know who she is. Now that I know what the obstacle is, I can get it out of my way.” This was exactly what they had all tried to avoid. Instead of getting Delfi off Gastón’s back, she was going to start tracking the girl she thought was Gastón’s girlfriend. This was dangerous. Delfi wasn’t stupid—if she started seriously looking into it, she might get to that track that would lead her to discover Nina, which would bring on another set of problems. “I don’t know what I’ll do once I find her out, but I won’t rest until I have.”

“Well, don’t you think that task is quite… impossible?” Ambar was trying her best to save the situation. “She could be anybody. You don’t even know if she goes to Blake.”

“Well, she goes to Roller. That's a start.”

“How do you even know that?” It was better to get Delfi aas far away from the actual truth as possible. “Maybe she just went to see one of his competitions. Maybe she’s not even from Buenos Aires, and that's why you haven’t seen her around—”

“You two seem to have a lot to say.” Mr. Acosta turned to two of them. “I hope you channel all that enthusiasm into the assignment.”

Delfi picked up the camera in front of her and started taking pictures of Ambar, continuing the conversation as she did so. “Maybe you are right.”

“About giving up on him?” Ambar tried not to sound too hopeful.

“About it being difficult.” Delfi apparently hadn’t heard a word of what she had said. “And where did she even come from to get her hands on him? She definitely wasn’t in the picture last year.”

“Maybe they met during a vacation?”

“Yeah, and she just spontaneously shows up here,” Delfi scoffed. They had traded places, and Ambar was now behind the camera. “You know, I think she is from Blake. I know I’ve heard her voice somewhere, and how else would they have been able to see each other? He spends all his time at Roller.”

“Why couldn’t you still be with Matteo?” she whined, “You could have asked him. He must know who she is.”

“I wouldn't count on it, and anyway I’m not with Matteo so drop it.” she shot her a glare. “Besides, he could easily see her during afternoons and weekends. Honestly Delfi, your logic is not really holding…”

Delfi’s gaze had wandered away from Ambar and the camera, to something across the classroom. Ambar rolled her eyes and turned around…

She had expected Delfi to have been looking at Gastón again… but she was not. She was looking in his direction, but her eyes were not focused on him—they were focused on Nina, whom he was taking pictures of at that very moment.

“You—you aren’t honestly thinking it’s Nina?” The terror began rising in Ambar’s stomach. This was exactly what wasn’t allowed to happen.

“Just look at how close he is getting to her.”

To Ambar, it looked like Gastón was instinctively touching Nina a little bit more than necessary when directing her for the photo. Ambar didn’t think it was that noticeable if you didn’t know, but of course Delfi of course was looking for something just like that, and it was up to Ambar to get the idea out of her head.

“I don’t see it, Delfi. I think you’re getting paranoid.” She tried to turn back toward their own work, but Delfi didn’t budge. Ambar suppressed a frustrated grunt and took a deep breath. It was time to jump back into the “Old Ambar” pool—sad to say that this wasn’t even going to be the deep end. “You do realize we’re talking about Nina here?”

Delfi finally turned her head.

“It sounds immensely stupid,” Ambar continued. “Gastón is one of the most popular guys in the whole school, that little girl would have no chance with him. It defies all the laws of the universe.”

Yes, true love did defy the laws of the universe. Ambar knew that better than anyone. Her relationship with Simon was something no one could have seen coming.

“Maybe that's why they’re hiding.” You definitely couldn’t call Delfi unintelligent. To Ambar’s misfortune right now, she was very smart when she wanted to be.

“And doesn’t she, like, live with her nose in a book?” Ambar continued. “I highly doubt she has ever spoken to a guy in her whole life. When on earth would that have been able to happen?” Ambar let herself laugh while she was speaking, hoping that, to Delfi, it sounded like she was being mean and putting Nina down, when she was actually laughing at the ridiculousness of her statement, since it was so far from the truth. In reality, Nina had had multiple guys after her—Ambar didn’t know much about the painter guy, but she had been there for the year before Nina had gone to Oxford, and even if everything that had happened with Eric was nothing short of a disaster, no one could blame him for liking Nina.

“...So, basically, I think you’re just out of your mind if you think she’s the one you heard. Just look at her.” Ambar finished her speech and prayed that she had managed to change Delfi’s mind, since she really didn’t want to keep going. It hurt her to think that once up a time she had actually believed these things. She knew that this was something she would be needing to do in the future as well, as long as they were in this situation, but she didn’t want to say bad things about the people who were like family to her. It was part of the deal, so to say, and there was no other choice. She knew that at least Luna and Nina had most likely been forced to say something negative about her to Jim and Yam or someone else—there was no avoiding it, given how she had been.

***

Bam!!! The Roller Band had been rehearsing a song on the Roller’s stage until Pedro had hit the hi-hat so hard that the stand it had been on had fallen over.

“How hard did you hit that?” Nico laughed as the song skittered to a stop

“Not my fault, actually,” Pedro countered while trying to get the stand to stand up on its own again. “Look, the screw on the base has broken. It was only a matter of time.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Simon asked, pulling the guitar strap from his shoulder.

“Well, this is gone now,” Pedro said, gesturing to the hi-hat. “I’ll go look in the dressing room for a spare stand we can use, otherwise we’ll need to pray Tamara has room in the budget for a spare drum part.”

“So in other words, it will take a while?” Simon joked. He had to admit that getting along with “past” Nico and Pedro had been less strange than he had originally thought, but it still didn’t make not strange. “So I take it that rehearsal is over?”

“It looks like it,” Nico answered, looking at the clock at the wall. “I need to get going too—Jim is waiting for me on the rink.”

Simon couldn’t fully read if Nico was excited or something else when he mentioned Jim. He had no idea at what point the Jim drama was at the moment, and in order to not get caught up in it, he didn’t ask. Funny, really, consiering ever since Nico had come back from New York and re-joined the Roller band, he hadn’t had any long-term serious relationships. He was known as the ladies' man of the band since Simon and Pedro had long-term partners. They both did wish that Nico would find happiness someday and that the right person was somewhere.

As Simon had been left alone on stage, he looked around the empty cafeteria and noticed that Ambar was sitting on one of the tables. He had not noticed her coming in, but he had been distracted by Pedro and his broken drum.

“Your drink… my lady.” He swooped across the cafeteria to Ambar’s table.

“I didn’t order anything,” she responded, not taking her eyes off her computer. She was so focused on something that she hadn’t realized that it was him standing in front of her. Simon smiled at her. He always loved to watch her work.

“This one is on me,” he sat down across from her at the table and brushed some hair out of her face, which made her look up.

“Oh Simon, I didn’t notice it was you.”

“The place is empty, so I thought I’d say hi to my wife. Were you working on something? You looked pretty focused.”

“No, just thinking,” she responded, sliding her hand over the table to take his. “Delfi is getting on my last nerve. It’s not easy to fool her, you know.”

“You know, I am really proud of you, darling. You are single-handedly saving all of our butts.” Simon smiled at her.

“There really is no way that you could somehow make Pedro ask her out?”

Simon laughed, “I don’t think so. If I did that, he would probably have a million different questions for me if I did. And would she even say yes?”

“Probably not.” Ambar joined in on the laughter. “We need to find a way to hypnotize them or rope them into a blind date.”

“But anyway,” she stopped laughing and continued with a flirtier tone, “enough about Delfi. You know where we’re going this weekend?”

“Yes, I got your google calendar invite. You have gone full Amy Santiago apparently, next thing I know, you’ll have an obsession with three-ring binders.”

“Well, it’s your fault for introducing me to Brooklyn 99.”

“Well, I don’t regret it.” Simon checked again that they were alone before inching his face closer to hers as she started to do the same.

Bam!! Simon whipped his head around and saw Pedro struggling to get the hi-hat onto the stage. Luckily, he didn’t appear to have seen them.

“So did you want something else, Ambar?” Simon got up from the chair before Pedro could notice anything else.

“No, I’m good thank you, Simon.”

“Simon! Could you come to help me with this? I found a new stand!” Pedro yelled from the stage. Simon went back to him and helped him lift the instrument onto the stage.

“So, what was that about?” Pedro asked him as they put the hi-hat next to the drumset.

“What do you mean?” Simon tried to sound as nonchalant as possible to mask the panic that was bubbling inside him. Had Pedro seen something? If he had, then how much?

“I mean, you were sitting down with her and got up as soon as I arrived.” Okay, so he hadn't seen that much. Simon’s heart rate calmed down just a little.

“I mean, Nico and I kind of thought that you liked Luna since you came here for her and stuff—” Argh, where was Pedro going with this? “—but now I’m kind of starting to doubt that.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Is there something going on with Ambar?”

Oh no. Pedro was speeding dangerously fast in the right direction. What was Simon supposed to respond to that? Ambar was his wife, but he couldn’t say that, and he was a terrible liar. He really wanted to glance towards her to see if she was listening in, but doing that would have been an obvious tell.

“Where have you gotten that idea from?” he started. “The cafeteria was empty. I delivered her order and we chatted for a bit.”

“Well, she is single, and not bad looking, everyone can see that. And it isn’t just that.” Pedro apparently wasn’t going to relent. “I’ve seen you two talk before, and she always seems a bit more friendly when she’s with you.”

“Isn’t she always friendly?” Simon tried to act dumb.

“Well, I don’t know, kind of, but also not. You haven’t known her for long enough to know her that well.” Simon fought the urge to laugh. He didn’t know her well? He knew everything about her, but of course, in Pedro’s timeline, he shouldn't and couldn’t.

“Honestly, Pedro, if you think that there is something going on with me and Ambar, then you yourself should ask Delfi out.” Desperately, Simon tried to change the subject before his face would give him away.

“Delfi??”

***

“Just explain again, slowly this time.” Gastón said to Matteo, who was on the other end of the phone. “You tried to propose to her during your improv version of Romeo and Juliet? In front of the whole class?”

“She forgot her lines, so we started inventing them ourselves, and I just thought I’d slide it in there. I tried to explain it to her later, but then Jim and Yam came in and she didn’t hear anything I said.”

“What were you thinking?” Gastón laughed and looked down at his phone. He had Matteo on speaker while he was sitting at his desk in his room editing the pictures for the photography class.

“You told me that I didn’t need a plan.”

“I didn't mean to wing it.” Gastón didn’t know why he was surprised that Matteo had misinterpreted hir words. It was Matteo, and sometimes Gastón wondered if the concussion from that fall five years ago still affected him somehow. He also hated to admit that the series of unfortunate events of Matteo Balsano’s proposal saga was actually quite entertaining. “I meant that you don’t need a big grand plan. For example, next time she comes over, you could sit her on the couch and just ask.”

“I don’t know.” Matteo breathed a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone “I mean we are talking about Luna here … that just doesn’t feel right.”

“Then maybe it would be easier to drop it—for now anyway.” Gastón sighed. “Our situation is so far from ideal, and I don’t know if it’s really the right moment for a major relationship development.”

“I don’t get it anymore. Do you want me to propose or not?” Matteo was clearly starting to get aggravated, and Gaston couldn’t really blame him. He knew how much Matteo loved Luna, and it must have been hard to have all of his future plans be thrown to the wind.

“It’s not my decision, Matteo.” Gastón often found that the best way of dealing with an annoyed Matteo Balsano was to talk to him extremely calmly. “I want you to be happy, and I know that's with Luna. You know I’ll support you, but remember to use your brain.”

“Yeah, I know,” Matteo responded. “Ugh, Sofia is calling me for something.”

“Think about what I said,” Gastón reminded him, “and try not to be too mean to Sofia.”

“You know I love her, but she doesn't need to know that,” Matteo laughed, “since I am supposed to be a teenager and all that.” Then he hung up.

Gastón sighed to himself as he turned back to his computer and began scrolling through the pictures again. You could easily get a book out of the Matteo shenanigans, maybe he should convince Nina to write one.

He opened another folder from the school pictures to the one where he had hidden the pictures he had tricked Nina into taking with him of the kiss. The photos had turned out quite well for spontaneous auto-shutter shots.

“Gastón, are you…” Isla’s voice made him jump. When had his mother stopped knocking before entering when the door was definitely closed? Or maybe she never had done that before Nina had come into the picture, since she had been the first—and last—girl he had brought home. He didn’t remember. “...is everything alright?”

He must have looked quite freaked out as he quickly closed the folder. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, you’re wearing the same face you were when we caught you stealing candy when you were 5.”

“Well you kind of startled me,” Gastón countered. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“What were you doing here, cooped up all alone here in the dark?” Dark? His room was nowhere near being dark. Sure he hadn’t had the ceiling lamp on, but the sun had only just gone down.

“Am I not allowed to close the door of my own room now?”

“Of course you are, but you just seem to spend all your time locked up here now, or out of the house.” Isla sighed. “Your father and I have been away, but when we are here, we would like to see you.”

Gaston sighed internally. Of course they had noticed, but what was he supposed to do? When his parents were home, out was the only place he could see Nina. And it was not like he could talk with her on the phone around the house where anyone could hear. It was really killing him to have to be away from her.

“I had my door closed because I was talking to Matteo and didn’t want to be overheard. He’s been having some girl trouble since apparently, the ‘Balsano charm’ has been deflating since he broke up with Ambar. You know, I’m actually surprised that you don’t know this. Don’t you and Sofia talk?” he said, trying to swerve the conversation away from his own strange behavior. His mother and Matteo’s stepmother were really good friends, had been even before he’d met Matteo, which had been an interesting discovery at the start of their friendship, given Matteo’s early relationship with Sofia. Maybe it wasn't the best direction to go, since he knew for the certain that Mom and Sofia loved gossiping about the two of them, but it was the only thing he could come up with that was kind of true. Like Nina always said, he was a terrible liar, but he had been talking to Matteo, and they had been talking about his girl troubles.

“Well, I certainly doubt Matteo talks about that kind of stuff with Sofia,” Isla laughed, “but she has been saying that he’s been strangely nice to her. But maybe it is time, it has been years.”

“Yeah,” Gastón responded. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to respond to that, and he was just trying to think of a way to end the conversation. Not that he minded talking to his mother, of course he didn’t, but they were treading very close to dangerous ground with the subject of Matteo’s behavior changes.

“Are those the pictures you took for that school assignment?” His mom seemed to have other plans for the conversation herself, as her eyes were fixated on the monitor behind him and she came into the room from the door. Gastón turned around and was relieved to notice that he had managed to close the folder that had the pictures that Mom definitely wasn't allowed to see, but had still left the one with the pics for class open.

“Yeah, we were told to take a headshot of our partners,” he said quickly, explaining away why he had tens of pictures of a girl on his computer.

“I am glad you have taken to photography. You got that from your father. I couldn’t take a picture of a cloud until he taught me how to.” Isla said as she came closer to look at the pictures on the screen. “These are really good. She’s your partner? What's her name?”

Great, this was the last thing he wanted. He was a terrible actor, and Delfi might have bought his act, but there was no way he’d fool his mother. He really couldn’t start talking extensively about Nina without accidentally slipping up and saying something that he definitely shouldn’t be saying about a person who was just his partner in a school assignment. His mother could also read his facial expression too well, even if he tried to hide them.

“Nina Simonetti,” he said, making an effort to keep his face as expressionless as possible. Maybe Mom wouldn’t ask anymore questions if he just gave a straight answer.

“Is she Italian?” Of all the questions she could have asked, his mother had actually asked a relatively safe one. Nina was not Italian, that was sure knowledge, but Gastón wouldn’t be that surprised if she did have some Italian blood somewhere in her ancestry, given her last name. He tried to keep his answer as vague as possible. “I don’t think so.”

“Hold on, is she Ana Castro’s daughter?” Gastón froze. How on earth had his mom made that connection? He knew that Ana had actually worked with his parents when he was little, but he didn’t realize she would remember it just like that. And why was she expecting him to know?

“How would I know? She was only my assignment partner, and she’s not even in my grade. This has been the only time I have been involved with her.” He realized he’d put a weird amount of emphasis on the complete lie he’d finished on.

“I was just thinking, Ana did some legal services for us when you were younger,” Isla went on. “She was a Simonetti at the time but got divorced not long after. We haven’t really kept in touch, which is a shame because we got on well. She had a daughter who was younger than you. I don't remember her name, but that must be her, now that I’m thinking about it. She looks exactly like Ana.”

“Okay.” Gastón didn’t really know why his mother was recounting this much of the story, which he of course already knew, but he figured the best course of action was to just nod and agree.

“Well, how was she? Was she nice? Did you like working with her?” Isla started asking, more enthusiastically than before.

“Yes… I think so.” Gastón wasn’t fully aware of where his mother was going with this.

“Will you be working together in the future?” Oh, now he understood. It was inpossible not to hear the suggestive tone in her voice. Leave it to his mother to try to “subtly” hint that he should get involved with her old friend's daughter, who already was his fiance. How had they ended up here? This was getting extremely complicated.

“Mom, I know what you’re trying to do here,” he stated. “I honestly don't think I will see her again.” He had no idea how he would have continued, but he didn’t need to, as his phone started ringing, and to his horror, the screen, which was still facing up and in the blatant view of his mother, read “Nina.” So much for his “I will not see her again.” Great timing, truly.

“Is that her?”

“Um, yeah.” He couldn’t pick up the call, not now. Even if he got Mom to leave so he could talk to Nina, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t interrogate him later about what they had talked about, which would mean he’d need to lie to her face even more, which would probably result in him getting caught. His parents didn’t know everything about him, but they sure could tell when he lied. He’d barely ever gotten away with it as a kid. “She must have some question about the pictures.”

“At this hour? It is almost 11 pm.”

“I don’t know what kind of schedule she is working with. I’ll call her back. Now I need to get something from downstairs.” he said as he got up from the chair.

He shot Nina a message as he was walking down a hall: “I’m sorry I hung up on you. You called right in front of Mom, she saw the caller ID, I’ll explain later. I’ll call you back in 30 minutes. Love you.”

Uuuuu, the tensions are rising... and Matteo is really making the proposing so much harder for himself than it has to be. And yes, i just made Simon a Brooklyn 99 fan, which he ended up roping Ambar into as well, but Simon seems like a person who would be into that show. I am pretty sure Roller Band probably binged it together since I am sure there are Spanish subs in the show

#Soy Luna fanfiction #time travel #The Holy Trinity of ships #Lutteo #Gastina #Simbar #Soy Luna #Memories of time SL

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miserablesme · 3 years

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The Les Miserables Changelog Part 1: Barbican Previews

Hello everyone! I'm starting out a blog which will look at my favorite musical, Les Miserables, and will discuss the various changes it has gone through over time (musically and lyrically). As it turns out, a LOT of edits have been made over the years so this will doubtless be a series with several parts.

This first part may well be the most difficult and will almost certainly be the most incomplete, as previews can be a time of extensive editing and experimentation. At least for the first few weeks or so, it's perfectly possible any one day of previews will be slightly different than any other day. However, I only have access to two audios from the Barbican Theatre previews of Les Miserables, meaning it's likely that lyrical variants exist which I have no way of hearing.

I am aware of the existence of a third audio which is fairly early in the run of previews, as the tape's master has told me that Gavroche's death scene is in its original form (I'll clarify that later). However, that tape has never been traded, and has sadly only been listened to by its master. I am also aware of a video proshot of the Barbican era that exists in the Royal Shakespeare Company library, but currently have no access to it. I plan to inquire about whether I can look at it sometime (though I'm not sure a blog like this is "official" enough to warrant it for research purposes). As such, this comparison only entails the two widely circulated audios from the Barbican run.

Now that we've gotten that cleared up, let's get started!

First, let's look at the opening "Work Song". In the earlier recording I have (let's call it R1), the beginning music (the same tune used, for instance, at the opening of "At the End of the Day" and "One Day More" and for Marius and Cosette's meeting in "The Robbery") stops. Then, a few moments later, the more familiar opening that leads directly into the prologue begins. By the time of the later recording I have (let's call it R2), the scores have been combined so that the first tune directly transitions into the second one.

Meanwhile, in R1 there is a sequence of lines that goes as follows:

I've done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn't care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn't worth your life

I know she'll wait

I know that she'll be true

Look down, look down

She's long forgotten you

Most fans of the musical recognize the middle sequence of lines ("I killed a man" through "She wasn't worth your life") as no longer being lines in the show (for good reason, as we'll get into in a later edition of this blog). However, R2 keeps the lines. Instead, it deletes the third sequence ("I know she'll wait" through "She's long forgotten you"). I have no idea if this lasted only a few performances or made it all the way to the end of the Barbican run, or somewhere in between.

During "On Parole", specifically after Valjean is underpaid for his labor and sings about his frustration, R1 uses a variation of the "Work Song" theme which, to my recollection, is heard nowhere else in the musical. It can be heard here. By R2, it was switched to an in-tune version of the number with a unique opening. The musical retains that version to this day, but in case you can't recall it you can hear it here.

Minus an unintentional line flub in "At the End of the Day" in R2, the two Barbican recordings seem to use the same libretto and score from this point until "The Runaway Cart". At this point, R1 has a rather extensive scene leading up to Valjean saving Fauchelevent, which goes approximately as follows (the dialog is difficult to make out):

(VALJEAN)

Is there anyone here who will rescue the man?

Who will help me to shoulder the weight of the cart?

I will pay any man thirty louis d’or more

I will do it myself if there’s no one who will

We can’t let him die like that down in the street

Can you all watch him die and do nothing at all?

(FAUCHELEVENT)

Don’t approach me, Monsieur Mayor

The cart’s not gonna be holding

Not my poor mother would care if I should die

(TOWNSPEOPLE)

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

There's nothing at all you can do

The old man's a goner for sure

Leave him alone

Most of that dialog is deleted in R2, so that it goes directly from "Who will help me to shoulder the weight of the cart" to "Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor". I really like the idea of the original version; it seems reasonable that Valjean, having become a more trusted man, would expect the townspeople to help him. It's more meaningful that Valjean is good enough to do what's right when there's more time to establish that no one else is. Having said that, the original version did take quite a while and didn't really contain any relevant information that wasn't in the final version. I think the cut version as heard in R2 is a good compromise and retains the general mood and pacing to make Valjean's ultimate action satisfying (something that can't be said of later cuts, as will be discussed in a future edition of this blog).

Additionally, at the end of the number Javert refers to "the mark upon his skin" in R1 and "the brand upon his skin in R2 (as well as literally every subsequent performance since then to my knowledge). I have no idea if the "mark" line was a minor flub or was actually the original lyric.

"Who Am I?" is an interesting one. The musical content is identical in R1 and R2, but in R1 after his high note, Valjean shouts "You know where to find me!" with emotion so dramatic it sits right on the border between awesome and campy. By contrast, Valjean is totally silent after his high note in R2. Neither version would see its final day just yet, although the latter certainly has become more traditional over time. More on that in future editions.

From this point until "Master of the House" everything is the same between the two recordings. Roger Allam even comes in slightly late in both "Confrontation" scenes (making his line "-jean, at last...")! However, in the opening to "Master of the House" the following lines occur in R1:

(THENARDIER)

My band of soaks, my den of dissolutes

My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts

My sons of whores

Spend their lives in my inn

Homing pigeons flying in

They fly through my doors

And their money's good as yours

(CUSTOMERS)

Ain't got a clue what he put into his stew

Must've scraped it off the street

Hell, what a wine

Châteauneuf de Turpentine

Must've pressed it with his feet

Landlord over here

Where's the bloody man

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more or my old man is gonna do me in

All of those lines would be scrapped in R2. Personally I prefer this shortened variant than the one that would occur much later. Sure, some fun moments get lost, but nothing that actually adds any substance or characterization to the musical (unlike the later cut, which I'll discuss in a later edition of this blog). Some have speculated that this is simply lost dialog due to a tape flip of degrading, given that future performances would retain those lines. However, there is firsthand confirmation that the cuts were in fact part of the performance. To quote Trevor Nunn on page 87 of 1990's The Complete Book of Les Miserables (a page which elaborates that "the cost of overtime incurred after three hours could be crippling at a time when Les Miserables was still trying to find an audience"):

"Cameron wanted major cuts, which would have reduced its length to two and a half hours. I resisted, refusing to discuss things on those terms... Some of the other proposed cuts - like the removal of the "Master of the House" scene-setting preamble - were tried out in previews and then restored as the scenes would not work without them."

From a historical perspective that quote is invaluable. As will be brought up in a later blog post (notice a pattern today?) the musical would in fact be cut much later to avoid overtime charges. When people like myself have expressed the opinion that these cuts come at the expense of artistic integrity, I've seen others defend them by claiming that the overtime costs never were relevant to Cameron and the gang until Broadway sales began to go down, and that if they were taken into account the musical may well be in its shortened form from the beginning. However, this quote proves that argument to be false. Right from day one, the crew was aware that retaining a >3 hour runtime would come with severe financial costs, but this was deemed a worthy sacrifice in order to tell the story they wanted told. Indeed, it sounds like Cameron Mackintosh was waiting quite some time to enact his infamous cuts! (Cameron Mackintosh valuing profit above art?! Crazy, right??)

But I digress. Going back to the musical, the "Waltz of Treachery" number is mostly the same. However, after Valjean's "It won't take you too long to forget" line, R1 has over a minute of wordless vamping which leads right into the rather awkwardly-placed "Stars" song. By contrast, in R2 this vamping (which is still a minute long, mind you) leads into a humming duet between Little Cosette and Valjean, similar to the duet right before the number. A nice little bookend that makes the scene feel all the more resolved. (Much later this duet reprise would ironically be scrapped again, though!) The remaining segment of R1's vamping now plays after this sequence in R2.

Minus some unintentional missed lines at the beginning of "Stars" in R1, the recordings seem to follow the same libretto right up until "One Day More". Here, R1 uses the following lines:

(EPONINE)

One more day with him not caring

(MARIUS and COSETTE)

Was there ever love so true?

(EPONINE)

What a life I might have known

(MARIUS and COSETTE)

I was born to be with you

However, by R2 this scene is in its current form:

(EPONINE)

One more day with him not caring

(MARIUS and COSETTE)

I was born to be with you

(EPONINE)

What a life I might have known

(MARIUS and COSETTE)

And I swear I will be true

And that closes act one! Going on to the second act, the opening barricade scene has a few changes. First off, following the opening notes, R1 features a rather odd tune bearing resemblance to "Do You Hear the People Sing" (which can be heard here) before transitioning to a more true-to-form instrumental reprise of "Do You Hear the People Sing?" By contrast, R2 goes straight from the opening notes to the true-to-form reprise.

Next, Enjolras proclaims "Have faith in yourself and do not be afraid" in R1, while in R2 he instead states "Every man to his duty and don't be afraid". It's unknown if this was an intentional libretto change or if it simply reflects a flub during R1. A later sequence uses the "Have faith in yourself" line, meaning he may have just sung the wrong line for that particular scene.

Finally, R1 includes the following sequence (at least I think this is how it goes, since the lyrics are a little hard to hear):

(PROUVAIRE)

And the people will fight

(GRANTAIRE)

And join with you

Who gives a speech in the square

Fortunately, R2 uses a much less clunky (though still somewhat so) sequence:

(PROUVAIRE)

And the people will fight

(GRANTAIRE)

And so they might

Some will bark, some will bite

This isn't quite its current form ("dogs" and "fleas" will soon respectively replace the two usages of "some"), but it's pretty darn close.

I've heard that the very first Barbican preview(s?) didn't have a finalized opening to "On My Own". Sadly there is no known audio record of this, so I cannot comment on what exactly it began as. As such, the next major change takes place during Gavroche's death scene. This honestly is probably the biggest of all the changes between the two recordings. R1 uses the following death scene (in the tune of "Look Down" right up until the "So never kick a dog" verse, which is in the tune of "Little People"):

How do you do, my name’s Gavroche

These are my people, here’s my patch

Not much to look at, nothing posh

Nothing that you’d call up to scratch

Some fool, I bet, whose brains are made of fat

Picks up a gun and shoots me down

Nobody told him who he’s shooting at

He doesn’t know who runs this town

Life’s like that

There’s some folk

Missed the joke

That’s three, that’s three

That one has done for me

Too fast, too fast

They’ve got Gavroche at last

So never kick a dog

Because he’s just a pup

You better run for cover when the pup grows...

By contrast, R2 uses a much shorter variant which is set entirely to the tune of "Little People":

And little people know

When little people fight

We may look easy picking but we've got some bite

So never kick a dog

Because he's just a pup

You'd better run for cover when the pup grows up

And we'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give...

This is much closer to its current form, although the last two lines are inverted (we'll get to that in a later edition).

We now fast-forward to "Dog Eats Dog", which while recognizable is very different from the number we know today. The chorus of R1 claims that "It's a dirty great sewer that's crawling with rats", which R2 changes it to "stinking great sewer" instead. I'd definitely say the revised lyric better captures Thenardier's and the sewer's grossness.

Additionally, regarding Marius' ring, Thenardier originally exclaims that he "didn't mean to waste it, that would really be a crime". By R2, the line changes to "wouldn't want to waste it", which I'd say makes a lot more sense.

"Javert's Suicide" has changed a lot. R1 features the following remarks following "Vengeance was his and he gave me back my life":

Damned if I live in this caper of grace

Damned if I live in the debt of Valjean

I'll spit his pity right back in his face

Is this the law or has sanity gone?

(I'm a little unsure as to how accurate the final line is.)

By R2, the lines have been replaced with the current ones:

Damned if I live in the debt of a thief

Damned if I yield at the end of the chase

I am the law and the law is not mocked

I'll spit his pity right back in his face

In R1, the "Where's the new world, now the fighting's done" line is absent, and there is nothing but instrumentals in the segment where it is usually sung. By contrast, it is sung as usual in R2. My guess is that an actress simply forgot her line in R1 and it was always supposed to be there, though I can't say for sure.

The final change occurs at the wedding scene. The singing which opens the number is repeated in R1. By contrast, R2 has it sung once and then done with, as it currently is (and as it should be in my opinion, since the music isn't particularly pretty and contributes nothing to the plot).

Later in the same scene, R1 includes approximately this exchange (again, it's quite hard to make out the exact lyrics):

(THENARDIER)

I was there

Never fear

Even got me this fine souvenir

He was there

Her old dad

*indecipherable* and fleecing this lad

Robbed the dead

That's his way

(MME. THENARDIER)

That's worth five hundred any old day

(MARIUS)

I know this...

By R2, everything between "He was there" and "Any old day" were removed, which makes sense given that they essentially just rehash what was already said.

Finally, there's a subtle difference in the epilogue, specifically during the "Do You Hear the People Sing?" reprise. In R1, the ensemble sings "They will live again in glory in the garden of the Lord". R2 replaces the word "glory" with "freedom", and that word remains the one used to this day. I suppose "freedom" is more appropriate for the context of peace and prosperity. To many, I'd guess that "glory" conjures imagery of knights, battles, and the like; just the kind of violence that the characters wish to move away from! I have no idea if this was why the writers changed the lyric, but it's my hypothesis.

Towards the end of the show, the chorus in R1 sings "Even the darkest moon will end and the sun will rise". By R2, this is changed to "the darkest night". Makes more sense to me, since moons aren't known for being particularly dark!

And that just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what's commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I'd love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye...

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unpopularwiththepopulace · 3 years

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Chicago at Long Beach, LA, 1992: A Story of Bebe Neuwirth, Choreography, Riots, Revivals, and Relevance

Recently and rather excitingly, more footage made its way to YouTube of the 1992 version of Chicago staged at Long Beach in LA, featuring Bebe Neuwirth as Velma and Juliet Prowse as Roxie.

Given its increased accessibility and visibility, this foregrounds the chance to talk about the show, explore some of its details, and look at the part it might have played as a contribution to the main ‘revival’ of Chicago in 1996 – which has given the show one of the most resonant and highly enduring legacies seen within the theatre ever.

This Civic Light Opera production at Long Beach was staged in 1992, four years before the ‘main’ revival made its appearance at Encores! or had its subsequent Broadway transfer, and it marked the first time a major revival of Chicago had been seen since the original 1975 show disappeared nearly 15 years previously.

This event is of particular significance given its position as the first step in the chain of events that make up part of this ‘new Chicago’ narrative and the resultant entire multiple-decade spanning impact of the show hereafter.

But for all of its pivotal status, it’s seldom discussed or remembered anywhere near as much as it should be.

This may be in part because of how little video or photographic record has remained in easily accessible form to date, and also because it only played for around two weeks in the first place. As such, it is a real treat on these occasions to get to see such incredible and unique material that would otherwise have been lost forever after such a brief existence some 30 years ago.

This earlier revival of the show still feels like what we have come to identify “Chicago” as in modern comprehension of the musical, most principally because the choreography was also done by Ann Reinking. As with the 1996 production, this meant dance was done “very much in the master’s style” – or Mr Bob Fosse.

The link below is time-stamped to Bebe and Juliet performing ‘Hot Honey Rag’. As one of the most infamous numbers in Broadway history, it’s undoubtedly a dance that has been watched many times over. But never before have I seen it done quite like this.

https://youtu.be/4HKkwtRE-II?t=2647

‘Hot Honey Rag’ was in fact formerly called ‘Keep It Hot’, and was devised by Fosse as “a compendium of all the steps he learned as a young man working in vaudeville and burlesque—the Shim Sham, the Black Bottom, the Joe Frisco, ‘snake hips,’ and cooch dancing”, making it into the “ultimate vaudeville dance act” for the ultimate finale number.

Ann would say about her choreographical style in relation to Fosse, “The parts where I really deviate is in adding this fugue quality to the numbers. For better or worse, my style is more complicated.” The ‘complexity’ and distinctness she speaks of is certainly evident in some of the sections of this particular dance. There are seemingly about double the periodicity of taps in Bebe and Juliet’s Susie Q sequence alone. One simply has to watch in marvel not just at the impressive synchronicity and in-tandem forward motion, but now also at the impossibly fast feet. Other portions that notably differ from more familiar versions of the dance and thus catch the eye are the big-to-small motion contrast after the rising ‘snake hips’ section, and all of the successive goofy but impeccably precise snapshot sequence of arm movements and poses.

More focus is required on the differences and similarities of this 1992 production compared against the original or subsequent revival, given its status and importance as a bridging link between the two.

The costumes in 1975 were designed by Patricia Zipprodt (as referenced in my previous post on costume design), notably earning her a Tony Award nomination. In this 1992 production, some costumes were “duplications” of Zipprodt’s originals, and some new designs by Garland Riddle – who added a “saucy/sassy array” in the “typical Fosse dance lingerie” style. It is here we begin to see some of the more dark, slinkiness that has become so synonymous with “Chicago” as a concept in public perception.

The sets from the original were designed by Tony Walton – again, nominated for a Tony – and were reused with completeness here. This is important as it shows some of the original dance concepts in their original contexts, given that portions of the initial choreography were “inextricably linked to the original set designs.” This sentiment is evident in the final portion of ‘Cell Block Tango’, pictured and linked at the following time-stamp below, which employs the use of mobile frame-like, ladder structures as a scaffold for surrounding movements, and also a metaphor for the presence of jail cell bars.

https://youtu.be/4HKkwtRE-II?t=741

Defining exactly how much of the initial choreography was carried across is an ephemeral line. Numbers were deemed “virtually intact” in the main review published during the show’s run from the LA Times – or even further, “clones” of the originals. It is thought that the majority of numbers here exhibit greater similarity to the 1975 production than the 1996 revival, except for ‘Hot Honey Rag’ which is regarded as reasonably re-choreographed. But even so, comparing against remaining visible footage of Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera from the original, or indeed alternatively against Bebe and Annie later in the revival, does not present an exact match to either.

This speaks to the adaptability and amorphousness of Fosse-dance within its broader lexicon. Fosse steps are part of a language that can be spoken with subtle variations in dialect. Even the same steps can appear slightly different when being used in differing contexts, by differing performers, in differing time periods.

It also speaks to some of the main conventions of musical theatre itself. Two main principles of the genre include its capacity for fluidity and its ability for the ‘same material’ to change and evolve over time; as well as the fact comparisons and comprehensions of shows across more permanent time spans are restricted by the availability of digital recordings of matter that is primarily intended to be singular and live.

Which versions of the same song do you want to look at when seeking comparisons?

Are you considering ‘Hot Honey Rag’ at a performance on the large stage at Radio City Music Hall at the Tony Awards in 1997? Or on a small stage for TV shows, like the Howard Cosell or Mike Douglas shows in 1975? Or on press reel footage from 1996 on the ‘normal’ stage context in a format that should be as close to a replica as possible of what was performed in person every night?

Bebe often remarks on and marvels at Ann’s capacity to travel across a stage. “If you want to know how to travel, follow Annie,” she says. This exhibits how one feature of a performance can be so salient and notable on its own, and yet so precariously dependent on the external features its constrained to – like scale.

Thus context can have a significant impact on how numbers are ultimately performed for these taped recordings and their subsequent impact on memory. Choreography must adjust accordingly – while still remaining within the same framework of the intention for the primary live performances.

This links to Ann’s own choreographical aptitude, in the amount of times it is referenced how she subtly adapted each new version of Chicago to tailor to individual performers’ specific merits and strengths as dancers.

Ann’s impact in shaping the indefinable definability of how Chicago is viewed, loved and remembered now is not to be understated.

An extensive 1998 profile – entitled “Chicago: Ann Reinking’s musical” – explores in part some of Ann’s approaches to creating and interacting with the material across a long time span more comprehensively. Speaking specifically to how she choreographed this 1992 production in isolation, Ann would say, “I knew that Bob’s point of view had to permeate the show, you couldn’t do it without honoring his style.” In an age without digital history at one’s fingertips, “I couldn’t remember the whole show. So I choreographed off the cuff and did my own thing. So you could say it was my take on his thoughts.” Using the same Fosse vocabulary, then – “it’s different. But it’s not different.”

One further facet that was directly carried across from the initial production were original cast members, like Barney Martin as returning as Amos, and Michael O'Haughey reprising his performance as Mary Sunshine. Kaye Ballard as Mama Morton and Gary Sandy as Billy Flynn joined Bebe and Juliet to make up the six principals in this new iteration of the show.

Bebe, Gary and Juliet can be seen below in a staged photo for the production at the theatre.

The venue responsible for staging this Civic Light Opera production was the Terrace Theatre in Long Beach in Los Angeles. Now defunct, this theatre and group in its 47 years of operation was credited as providing some of “the area’s most high profile classics”. Indeed, in roughly its final 10 years alone, it staged shows such as Hello Dolly!, Carousel, Wonderful Town (with Donna McKechnie), Gypsy, Sunday in the Park with George, La Cage aux Folles, Follies, 1776, Funny Girl, Bye Bye Birdie, Pal Joey, and Company. The production of Pal Joey saw a return appearance from Elaine Stritch, reprising her earlier performance as Melba Snyder with the memorable song ‘Zip’. This she had done notably some 40 years earlier in the original 1952 Broadway revival, while infamously and simultaneously signed as Ethel Merman’s understudy in Call Me Madam as she documented in Elaine Stritch at Liberty.

Juliet Prowse appeared as Phyllis in Follies in 1990, and Ann Reinking acted alongside Tommy Tune in Bye Bye Birdie in 1991, in successive preceding seasons before this Chicago was staged.

But for all of its commendable history, the theatre went out of business in 1996 just 4 years after this, citing bankruptcy. Competition provided in the local area by Andrew Lloyd Webber and his influx of staging’s of his British musicals was referenced as a contributing factor to the theatre group’s demise. This feat I suspect Bebe would have lamented or expressed remorse for, given some of her comments in previous years on Sir Lloyd Webber and the infiltration of shows from across the pond: “I had lost faith in Broadway because of what I call the scourge of the British musicals. They've dehumanized the stage [and] distanced the audience from the performers. I think 'Cats' is like Patient Zero of this dehumanization.”

That I recently learned that Cats itself can be rationalised in part as simply A Chorus Line with ears and tails I fear would not improve this assessment. In the late ‘70s when Mr Webber noticed an increase of dance ability across the general standard of British theatre performers, after elevated training and competition in response to A Chorus Line transferring to the West End, he wanted to find a way he could use this to an advantage in a format that was reliable to work. Thus another similarly individual, sequential and concept-not-plot driven dance musical was born. Albeit with slightly more drastic lycra leotards and makeup.

But back in America, the Terrace theatre could not be saved by even the higher incidence of stars and bigger Broadway names it was seeing in its final years, with these aforementioned examples such as Bebe, Annie, Tommy, Juliet, Donna, or Elaine. The possibility of these appearances in the first place were in part attributable to the man newly in charge as the company’s producer and artistic director – Barry Brown, Tony award-winning Broadway producer.

Barry is linked to Bebe’s own involvement with this production of Chicago, through his relationship – in her words – as “a friend of mine”.

At the time, Bebe was in LA filming Cheers, when she called Barry from her dressing room. Having been working in TV for a number of years, she would cite her keenness to find a return to the theatre, “[wanting] to be on a stage so badly” again. The theatre is the place she has long felt the most sense of ease in and belonging for, frequently referring to herself jokingly as a “theatre-rat” or remarking that it is by far the stage that is the “medium in which I am most comfortable, most at home, and I think I'm the best at.”

Wanting to be back in that world so intensely, she initially proposed the notion of just coming along to the production to learn the parts and be an understudy. Her desire to simply learn the choreography alone was so strong she would say, “You don’t have to pay me or anything!”

She’d had the impetus to make the call to Barry in the first place only after visiting Chita Rivera at her show in LA with a friend, David Gibson. At the time, the two did not know each other that well. Bebe had by this point not even had the direct interaction of taking over in succession for Chita in Kiss of the Spider Woman in London. This she would do the following year, with Chita guiding her generously through the intricacies of the Shaftesbury Theatre and the small, but invaluable, details known only to Chita that would be essential help in meeting stage cues and playing Aurora.

Bebe had already, however, stepped into Chita’s shoes multiple times, as Anita in West Side Story as part of a European tour in the late ‘70s, or again in a Cleveland Opera Production in 1988; and additionally as Nickie in the 1986 Broadway revival of Sweet Charity – both of which were roles Chita had originated on stage or screen. In total, Velma would bring the tally of roles that Bebe and Chita have shared through the years to four, amongst many years also of shared performance memories and friendship.

They may not have had a long history of personal rather than situational connections yet when Bebe visited her backstage at the end of 1991, but Chita still managed to play a notable part in the start of the first of Bebe’s many engagements with Chicago.

After Bebe hesitantly relayed her idea, Chita told her, “You should call! Just call!”

So call Bebe did. One should listen to Chita Rivera, after all.

Barry Brown rang her back 10 minutes later after suggesting the idea to Ann Reinking, who was otherwise intended to be playing Velma. The response was affirmative. “Oh let her play the part!”, Annie had exclaimed. And so begun Bebe’s, rather long and very important, journey with Chicago.

In 1992, this first step along the road to the ‘new Chicago’ was well received.

Ann Reinking with her choreography was making her first return to the Fosse universe since her turn in the 1986 Sweet Charity revival. Diametrically, Rob Marshall was staring his first association with Fosse material in providing the show’s direction – many years before he would go on to direct the subsequent film adaptation also. Together, they created a “lively, snappy, smarmy” show that garnered more attention than had been seen since the original closed.

“Bob Fosse would love [this production],” it was commended at the time, “Especially the song-and-dance performance of Bebe Neuwirth who knocks everyone’s socks off.” High praise.

Bebe was also singled out for her “unending energy”, but Juliet too received praise in being “sultry and funny”. Together, the pair were called “separate but equal knockouts” and an “excellent combination”.

Juliet was 56 at the time, and sadly died just four years later. Just one year after the production though, Juliet was recorded as saying, “In fact, we’re thinking of doing it next year and taking it out on the road.”

Evidently that plan never materialised. But it is interesting to note the varied and many comments that were made as to the possibility of the show having a further life.

Bebe at the time had no recollection that the show might be taken further, saying “I didn’t know anything about that.” Ann Reinking years later would remark “no one seemed to think that the time was necessarily ripe for a full-blown Broadway revival.” While the aforementioned LA Times review stated in 1992 there were “unfortunately, no current plans” for movement, it also expressed desire and a call to action for such an event. “Someone out there with taste, money and shrewdness should grab it.”

The expression that a show SHOULD move to Broadway is by no means an indication that a show WILL move. But this review clearly was of enough significance for it to be remembered and referenced by name by someone who was there when it came out at the time, Caitlin Carter, nearly 30 years later. Caitlin was one of the six Merry Murderesses, principally playing Mona (or Lipschitz), at each of this run, Encores!, and on Broadway. She recalled, “Within two days, we got this rave review from the LA Times, saying ‘You need to take the show to Broadway now!’” The press and surrounding discussions clearly created an environment in which “there was a lot of good buzz”, enough for her to reason, “I feel like it planted seeds… People started to think ‘Oh we need to revive this show!’”

The seeds might have taken a few years to germinate, but they did indeed produce some very successful and beautiful flowers when they ultimately did.

In contrast with one of the main talking points of the ‘new Chicago’ being its long performance span, one of the first things I mentioned about this 1992 iteration was the rather short length of its run. It is stated that previews started on April 30th, for an opening on May 2nd, with the show disappearing in its final performance on May 17th. Less than a fleeting 3 weeks in total.

Caitlin Carter discussed the 1992 opening on Stars in the House recently. It’s a topic of note given that their opening night was pushed back from the intended date by two days, meaning Ann Reinking and Rob Marshall had already left and never even saw the production. “The night we were supposed to open in Long Beach was the Rodney King riots.”

Local newspapers at the time when covering the show referenced this large and significant event, by noting the additional two performances added in compensation “because of recent interruptions in area social life.”

It sounds rather quaint put like that. In comparison, the horror and violence of what was actually going on can be statistically summated as ultimately leaving 63 people dead, over 2300 injured, and more than 12,000 having been arrested, in light of the aftermath of the treatment faced by Rodney King. Or more explicitly, the use of excessive violence against a black man at police hands with videotaped footage.

A slightly later published review wrote of how this staging was thus “timely” – in reference to an observed state of “the nation’s moral collapse”.

‘Timeliness’ is a matter often referenced when discussing why the 1996 revival too was of such success. The connection is frequently made as to how this time, the revival resonated with public sentiment so strongly – far more than in 1975 when the original appeared – in part because of the “exploding headlines surrounding the OJ Simpson murder case”. The resulting legal and public furore around this trial directly correlates with the backbone and heart of the musical itself.

I'm writing this piece now at the time of the ongoing trial to determine the verdict of George Floyd’s murder, another black man suffering excessive and ultimately fatal violence at police hands with videotaped footage.

I think the point is that this is never untimely. And that the nation is seldom not in some form of ‘moral collapse’, or facing events that have ramifications to do with the legal system and are emotionally incendiary on a highly public level.

Which perhaps is why Chicago worked so well not just in 1996, but also right up to the present day.

Undoubtedly, we live in a climate where the impact of events is determined not just by the events themselves, but also the manner in which they are reported in the media. Events involving some turmoil and public outrage at the state and outcome of the legal system are not getting any fewer or further between. But the emphasis on the media in an increasingly and unceasingly digital age is certainty only growing.

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andwiththatileave · 4 years

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#ReleaseTheProshots

That’s all I ask of you Broadway

The weekend’s release of the Hamilton film, there’s a new surge of energy and light in the lives of theatre geeks. With Broadway shutting down until 2021 due to the Covid Pandemic, a lot of people are affected and not just the audience but also to the ones behind the shows. A lot of people are losing income because there’s no show to receive revenue from. Broadway chooses to remain elitist by choosing not to release their archive of proshots to the public despite the royalties retrieved from them could help become a source of income. Releasing these proshots won’t result in people losing interest in watching the shows live, if anything it would actually increase people’s interest in watching the shows live:

Mainstream artists often release MVs and even full concerts to promote themselves online, they even monatize it (like BTS with THEIR online concert). Concert halls and stadiums still get filled by people who wants to watch them live because an offline experience will definitely be different from an online experience.

People without access to watch the shows live can actually watch them. I live in a place where no production has ever toured in and not even Disney+ is available, forcing my friends and I to find an alternative way to watch the Hamilton movie because we still don’t know when we’ll have access to it. This is just 6 people that I know, 6 out of thousands in the same position as we’re in. Making the proshots accessible for everyone would mean more money because you have a wider range of audience.

It’ll actually interest more people to watch it. Several people DM’d me to get information on where I watched Hamilton, people who I didn’t even think enjoyed theatre. Apparently they were intrigued by the hype and afterwards they were converted to fans after watching the Hamilton movie. Imagine that in a larger scale, I’m just one person and I managed to pull in at least 5 new people to love it.

Two excellent examples (besides Hamilton) are Les Miserables and Phantom of the Opera. Both musicals have movie adaptations, Phantom of the Opera has released a proshot of their 25th Anniversary show at the Royal Albert Hall, and Les Miserables has two concert performances. None of those releases negatively impacted the success and fame of the shows, if anything there was a new wave of Les Mis fans after the release of the 2012 movie which I no doubt we’ll see with the new Hamilton movie as well.

I say this once more, Broadway

#releasetheproshots

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comagwyn · 3 years

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In light of the Revue Starlight international fandom drama

Before I would like to start, I would like to say that I have been on both sides of this: as a creator and as an audience. And I know that this doesn't seem much but this has just been causing me so much distress and I just really want to get this off my chest.

Disclaimer: I am a tad bit emotional because my feelings have been on a high all week, so, forgive me if I seem a bit... irrational and incomprehensible. Also, this is a really, really long post.

If you don't know what's going on in the international fandom (more specifically in the Twitter sphere,) of the anime series, "Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight," allow me to give you a very brief rundown.

Revue Starlight has been known to have live musicals and performances, as well as two movies, an anime series, and as well as several mangas. Recently, last July, its movie and its third live, "Growth" had been available for purchase and for online viewing. Now, here's the issue: a popular Twitter account named, "Revue Starlight International" has been known to translate and offer official announcements to fans--despite it being run independently. This account ceased its operation in connection to the rampant leaking and posting of spoilers, screenshots, and videos, etc. of the movie and live performance. Though it's largely unconfirmed what the true reason is, many speculated that it has had something to do with some viewing parties on Discord, which many fans condemn and label as piracy. Some even claiming that they basically ripped off those who worked hard on the series, itself.

Now, here is where I insert my own opinion as a viewer, and as a fan. In all certainty, I can tell you that I do not condone crimes in any way, shape, or form--both for legal purposes and morality's sake. But as someone who has largely little to no means of officially supporting a series that I like, more often than not, I don't really have a choice. Now, usually, I would chalk this up to ignorance or privilege but... I really want to have a discussion with the people who had been largely shitting on those who leaked content, joined viewing parties, etc.. I can definitely tell you that those people want to support the series as much as you do, but you have to understand sometimes, they don't even have a choice (I'm talking about those who viewed it in less than... let's say official ways). Those people could be living in [developing] countries where they didn't have the access to Bushiroad's official sales, or they didn't have enough money to buy tickets because they had more important shit to spend it on.

Basically, my point is, stop blaming it on the fans. This is a really complex issue that shouldn't end up on pointing fingers on anybody.

Some fans have had to leave because others are making them feel less than because they simply don't have the means of accessing to the content the same way others could. And I understand that that is a legitimate concern, but to throw away that fact and to berate others for choosing the only choice they had is just plain ignorant and hypocritical. It's important to realize that not everybody is living in a desirable living situation, not everybody has the means and access to the content, not everybody can support the series in the way they want to.

In many ways, this issue shares many similarities with Broadway's "bootleg" problem--but I don't think I'm knowledgeable enough to draw more conclusions, so I'll leave that comparison as it is.

Truthfully, I am very conflicted as to how I feel about this issue. I admit, I have had my fair share of internet problems, but this is the only one that has really affected me this much (to the point of me seriously considering leaving the fandom entirely out of shame and guilt.) On one hand, it is considered piracy--point blank, and simple. But on the other hand, some people don't even have the means of supporting the series they love so much; even if they badly want to.

There is also another issue/reason of hobbies being "expensive" as a way to shame on other fans, but I can't into that issue without personal feelings getting involved, so, I'll place it to the side for the meantime.

All in all, I really don't know how to feel. It really sucks that this kinda thing has to happen on Claudine's birthday--so, I can't even enjoy that if I wanted to because of the anxiety swimming in my stomach.

Say what you will about the people who joined in viewing parties (the leakers are a whole different can of worms that I don't really wanna open)--I still think this matter could've been brought to light without needlessly shaming people who legitimately had no access to the content. It's very harmful to the fans who meant no ill will, and only did the best that they can. Although I'm not saying that we should certainly do that, it's important to remember that these are people too, with problems, and with personal experiences who just use the series as a way to escape their reality.

Note: We can continue discussing about this in the replies, but please remain respectful. I have done my very best for this post to be as calm and as even as I could, despite my worsening mental and emotional state, and I would like to continue calmly discussing this rather than screaming to a bunch of strangers on the internet. Also, I am really sorry if some personal views have made it on this post; the issue of accessibility and financial means have personal weight for me (as a college student living in the Philippines), so, I really apologize if I seemed to be leaning to certain sides.

#shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #revue starlight growth #revue starlight live performances #opinion #please forgive me if I seem a bit tense #I am very anxious and the guilt still hasn't cleared so #yeah #long post #serious issue #fandom #international fandom

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uomo-accattivante · 4 years

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I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access, I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - [email protected]

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

###

#oscar isaac #vintage #juilliard #blinking underdogs #area stage company #john rodaz #gablestage #when it's cocktail time in cuba #side man #arrivals and departures #this is our youth #praying with the enemy #sleepwalkers #private wars #winter shorts #the miami herald

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Connie and Carla

I know nothing about this film requested by Chad other than the following facts: It was Nia Vardalos’s follow-up to the indie smash hit My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and it was universally reviled by audiences and critics alike. So I’m in for a fun afternoon! The plot is your basic Some Like It Hot ripoff - Connie (Vardalos) and Carla (Toni Collette) are childhood best friends who have spent their whole lives performing together, believing they are destined for musical theater greatness. After witnessing a murder, they go on the run and hide out in the last place anyone would think to look for them - as women pretending to be men pretending to be women, aka performers in a drag queen bar in L.A. Everything’s going great until a BOY shows up (David Duchovny), and Connie falls for him. Gender gags, musical theater numbers, mistaken identify, Russian mobsters, hijinks - yeah, we’ve all drunk this cocktail before. So was this top shelf, or something found in a plastic jug at the gas station? Well...

How about a mid-level ridiculous flavored vodka? Like Pinnacle Whipped Cream or something. The film’s conceptions of gender (and of straight women’s feelings of entitlement to what should be LGBTQ spaces) are not my favorite. But its heart is in the right place and overall this leads to something pretty fun and charming, especially if you happen to love musical theater.

Some thoughts:

If there were an airport lounge where I could watch two sad 30-somethings singing a medley of musical theater’s greatest hits, I would go there every day. I wouldn’t even book a flight, that would just be my favorite bar. I think I would go broke driving to the airport every day and buying drinks in this lounge. I’d have my birthday party there.

Oh I love Greg Gruenberg in a bit part as the cheesy celebrity bus tour guide in L.A.

Hello David Duchovny as Jeff! He was my first celebrity crush, and his aw shucks nice guy thing in this movie is really working for me.

This is wildly offensive to drag queens not because of stereotypes, but because no drag act would ever come so ill-prepared with a Rocky Horror number. I recognize that in 2004 we didn’t have over a decade of RuPaul’s Drag Race under our belts, but c’mon, even the most sheltered Midwestern queer would come with something better than this.

Is this supposed to be some kind of feminist statement about beauty standards in L.A.? This anti-botox rant Connie and Carla go on, and the makeover of the woman in the salon - no no no, straight hair and beige lipstick is Bad but curly hair and lip liner is Good. It feels confusing that we’re supposed to see this as empowering when we’re just trading one commodified flavor of femininity for another.

There’s something that just feels deeply wrong about these women taking one of the only paying drag gigs in town, particularly when actual drag performers come to them and beg them to open up their act to include other drag queens. Note that they all offer up tangible skills - I can sew a dress in 3 hours, I can do incredible makeup, I’ve got great choreography. Yes Connie and Carla can sing, but drag is meant to be performative - the artifice is part of what makes it an art form. Smarter queer people than me have written about this, but even for the uneducated, there’s something about this concept that feels off, wrong and exploitative, and deeply rooted in straight privilege. It’s the same icky feeling I get at the gay bar when all the seats for the drag show are taken up by straight women’s bachelorette parties, while actual queer women and men who came to see the show are pushed to standing room.

Ok, I do kind of love these interludes with Tibor (Boris McGiver) looking for the girls in every dinner theater and Broadway show in the country and the only show playing is Mame every time. Fun fact - McGiver’s father actually starred in the 1974 version of Mame!

Feels a little weird that Connie is the one who is explaining to Jeff why drag queens “like to dress up.” Is this being an ally or just erasing and talking over queer folks’ experiences? This is what I mean when I say it feels off - I don’t think it’s malicious, but the way the film handles queer stories feels like a dismissal, an invalidation. Like these straight women can do queer camp better than these gay men.

Did Carla literally just say “I need to get out of this closet”????

Connie is literally the worst at maintaining a cover. The trappings of fame are proving too alluring!

As far as performances go, Collette and Vardalos have great chemistry, and Duchovny is being pretty dreamy as the romantic lead who’s around because he’s trying to reconnect with his estranged brother, Robert (Stephen Spinella). Nobody is winning an acting award for this, but Collette especially is a lot of bubbly fun.

Jeff is a difficult character to grapple with. On the one hand, he doesn’t always handle Robert’s sexuality with grace or compassion, and that can be difficult to watch as a queer person because we all have experienced that same kind of look, that tone of “why can’t you just be normal?” However, he’s putting in an honest effort to grow, and I think that should count for something. Also he straight up gets sexually assaulted by Connie, so I don’t blame him for having a hard time feeling comfortable around the drag queen scene. And that’s another fucked up thing, just adding to the “gay men are predatory and will put the moves on straight guys at the first chance” stereotype.

Even though it sounds cringey as hell when he says it, I’m sure it is probably cathartic for any gay kid who stumbles across this movie and hears Jeff make his big speech about “I should have just loved you and accepted you and not cared about the fact that you wear dresses.” That’s what I mean when I say the script seems to have its heart in the right place even though the way it’s expressing a lot of these ideas just reinforces the status quo rather than interrogating it, or propping up the stories of people who live outside that status quo.

My god, do I love Debbie Reynolds in this head-to-toe red glitter number.

Yeah I don’t think all these queens would take this kindly to being lied to and having their act infiltrated by a couple of straight women. Like this feels laughably “all’s well that ends well.”

Did I Cry? Ok, a tear slipped out when Jeff and Robert hugged for the first time.

This was a very interesting watch. I know I seem to be dragging this shit out of this movie, but I actually largely enjoyed the experience of watching it. It’s got a very 2004-esque view of some complex gender and sexuality issues (and wouldn’t it have been so much more interesting if a queer person had written this and was able to use it to interrogate issues of femininity and its performance as it relates to queerness?). BUT, honestly, the whole thing is Shakespearean in its plot and its broad strokes characters. You’ve got crossdressing, mistaken identity, some light gay panic, long lost brothers reuniting - all that’s missing is a Duke and a forest setting, and you’ve got half of Shakespeare’s comedies right there. And much like Shakespeare, there’s nothing here that hasn’t been done before - it’s the medium parts of Some Like It Hot, the general plot of Sister Act (swap nuns for drag queens), the gender panic of every cross-dressing movie. All very surface-level stuff but there’s a reason these same kind of stories have been putting butts in seats for 400 years.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #connie and carla #connie and carla review #nia vardalos #toni collette #david duchovny #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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meangirlsx · 4 years

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your opinion on... musical theatre being adapted for film? which shows do you think are successful (favorites??) and which ones do you think really need to be told in their original format? which ones have not been adapted but you think would make a great film adaptation? (-phantomoftheorpheum)

OH YOU REALLY WANT AN ESSAY YOU GOT IT

I’m gonna put a divide here because I’m about to be my wordy bitch self to answer the first question alone

I have so many conflicting thoughts on this. I had the absolutely incredible opportunity to work in New York theatre before and as everything shut down (that was an experience but that’s an entirely separate story), so I’ve been able to talk to people who are more closely affected by the situation, too.

Overall, I think musical theatre should be adapted for film. Theatre is an art form with an incredibly unique and undeniable power when performed and experienced live. But it is not accessible the way it needs to be.

A show on Broadway is expensive in itself, and most consumers on Broadway are not living in New York, so they’re also expected to spend money on travel, lodging, food, and transportation around the city, in addition to presumably having to take time off work or otherwise away from their lives to make the trip. Seeing shows on Broadway are some of the most incredible things I’ve ever experienced, but I am very fortunate and these experiences come at a great cost to most people. So many people who want to visit Broadway are not able to.

There are of course tours and that’s great. But similarly, they’re not usually cheap, and they’re not always close to you. I’ve encountered countless people who drove and even spent the night in another city to see a touring show that wasn’t coming anywhere closer to them. You can always find local shows, too, and those can be so wonderful. But the fact stands that a majority of the theatre world is based in an exclusive area. The Tony Awards are a nationally broadcast and celebrated event, but so many people watching have never had the chance to see the shows the same way you’ve had the chance to hear songs before the Grammys.

So I think shows being adapted to film widens the audience in a very necessary way. But there are two ways to adapt to film. The first is the way we know many movie musicals, as a true adaptation, like Mamma Mia, Into the Woods, The Sound of Music, Annie, Hairspray, Rent, and Les Mis. I actually do really love these versions. (West Side Story is also iconic but they basically forced their actors into brown face so there’s your not so fun fact of the day.) I think it’s fun to see the show told truly inside the world that otherwise is at least partially left to the imagination in most cases. And being adapted in this way typically means that it will interest more of a regular movie audience, which is really great to help get the stories out into the world and get more recognition of these shows and the industry.

The other way to adapt to film is the way Hamilton and Legally Blonde did it, where they released a professionally recorded version of the original stage production. I think this needs to happen more often. The original team of a show deserves for their work to be seen as the original form of the show.

For example, I’m so excited that The Prom is getting a movie, and I think the star-studded cast will help it get a lot more attention and therefore help the story reach a lot of people who need it, and that’s wonderful. This story needs to be told and these characters need to offer representation to people who have never had the chance to see themselves onscreen like this before. But the original team deserved to be able to tell the story they’d been telling it. They were the ones who introduced the story to the world and they deserve to introduce it to the world on this bigger scale.

It would be wonderful to normalize that kind of adaptation, maybe even in addition to the total remake adaptation format. I don’t want to get rid of one in favor of the other. Both have their place and their purpose. I suppose it wouldn’t be very sensible to create two movie versions of every show, to capture it in both full adaptation and stage-to-screen format, but I would honestly be all for that.

Some shows have such important, beautiful, intentional staging that it couldn’t be translated any way other than a professional recording. (Some examples below.) So some shows might lend themselves best to only a professional recording and not a total adaptation, but while I would love for anything to have a total adaptation that worked well in that format, I would want the original production, too, because it’s what they deserve.

I think especially now as we adapt so much to virtual formats, we’ve stepped into a new era of theatre potential. Theatre can be performed live virtually, or it can be recorded and shared to be watched over and over again just like our favorite TV shows and movies. There is nothing like the intense, electric feel of a live performance, but that should not limit us from sharing the art in other ways. The argument that being able to see a show as a movie would make people less likely to go see it has frankly been proven wrong time and time again. People want to see the show live more and will if they are able. Otherwise, we helped someone see a show who couldn’t see it any other way, and isn’t that the point of theatre? Making a difference in people’s lives? Connecting people?

As for shows that would make great film adaptations...

Hadestown is one of the most popular shows, so I feel like people would love to see that. The original team deserves to have their version of the show immortalized and shared with the world. But I would also love to see what an adaptation could do with the set for the Underworld.

I would love to see Come From Away as a movie. I think the show is so so so so so well done in its format, I can’t even really imagine it as an adaptation other than as a professional recording of the show.

Similarly, If/Then is a story I think everyone could use but I can’t even imagine it outside of its stage format so I vote for a professional recording.

Spring Awakening could really be a helpful show for a lot of people to see, but hot take I want it to be Deaf West’s Spring Awakening. Michael Arden is an absolute genius and the whole world needs to see his version of the story told through the phenomenal team.

The Lightning Thief deserved to be nominated at this year’s Tonys and they deserve a professional recording to be shared with the world. And I mean if someone wanted to make a better version of the movie with this group, I’d be down.

Bandstand deserves to be shared with the world and actually was available virtually for a little bit and I want that to be true again. I can’t imagine that in any other form, either, because the staging of trauma is so powerful.

Waitress was a movie first but I want the stage version immortalized because we need it.

Not Broadway but I want Kerrigan-Lowdermilk’s The Mad Ones to hit Broadway and then get a film adaptation, too.

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cara-terra-pace · 4 years

Text

Rich Neighbors Au Part 3: Bye Bye Miss Parisian Pie

Part 1 Part 2 The Gabrieling Procrastination Art Rich Neighbors Vine Animatic

-Oh my watermelon kids

-they are finally in America!!!

-First stop: Trash City!

-oops sorry NYC, sorry, they just sound the same when I say them out loud so I get them confused sometimes :)

-(I’m kidding New Yorkers don’t kill me please)

-okay, okay, getting off topic.

-so they’re in New York

-they’re just kind of wandering and they end up running into the Elmos.

-Mari was almost pulled into a hug with one and Felix had to drag her out of the way, saving her from the creep

-they then immediately booked it to a restaurant, hoping that would give them a bit of a reprieve.

-Hard Rock Cafe was the one they picked, Nino’s choice, obviously.

-Marinette gushed over the mini milkshakes for like ten minutes.

-someone ended up recognizing them. They took a picture, posted it on twitter and now BOOM

-every single one of their fans and customers know exactly where they are.

-but ANYWAY

-they’re in nyc, why not go to a broadway show?

-Six. They go to see Six. Don’t @ me, I like six and I thought Marinette and Nino would both enjoy it

-Mari is LIVING for their outfits.

-Nino is also loving every minute.

-They’re in the front and Nino is basically grinning the whole show but during Heart of Stone you can see him tear up a bit.

-Felix actually enjoys it. He shoves all the thoughts of historical inaccuracies out of his head and mostly just listens to Mari ramble about the outfits.

-Adrien vibes with Seymour honestly. And Parr. And basically all the queens.

-Nathalie likes the show too, mostly because it’s a nice break for her and the songs are pretty catchy too

-for Mega Six, Mari is filming and all the queens look directly into her camera

-they also take it and dance on stage with her phone, filming everything

-Mari is about to faint. Doesn’t matter that she’s technically famous, she is DEAD

-they don’t see her face when they take and give back the phone so when she comes backstage afterwards with the gang, at first they just recognize her hair and see her as the girl who was filming the Mega Six

-then they see her face and the costume designer is trying so hard not to squeal, oblivious to the fact that she’s doing the exact same thing.

-Mari is absolutely gushing to them about how great the show was

-She tells Parr that her song was what kept her going in school, since she’s listened to the Broadway and West End soundtracks about a billion times. (Pretend like the broadway one is already out time is a construct with rich people)

-side note, they post the pictures and video and suddenly A BUNCH of Six fans are now following Mari and now Mari is designing outfits inspired by the queens because AH THE COSTUMES ARE GORGEOUS I COULD TALK ABOUT THEM FOR DAYS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

-fun fact, they are all wearing a “If Found, Please Return to Nathalie” shirt

-Felix is adorable and bought Mari some hair pins with watermelons because Watermelon Kids

-yes Nathalie has a shirt that says “I’m Nathalie”

-they actually did lose Adrien and these two girls were able to return him to Nathalie and they all took a pic with them and followed the two on Twitter

-they don’t know what else to do in New York, so they just make their way down to...

-New Jersey!

-Seaside Boardwalk!!

-they mostly stick to the arcades, Mari sticking to casino pier, and them getting fries and lemonade as a snack.

-they spend the night at the boardwalk, going on a few rides like Moby Dick, and Pirate’s Cove.

-they spend the night at a house of a friend of Tom Dupain’s and the next day, they go to the Ocean County mall because it was close to the house.

-Adrien complained a bit about going to “the least cool mall in the state” but stopped when he found a five below at the plaza.

-five below is his weakness.

-mall, fun, yada yada yada

-bath and body works is inside? Mari’s in heaven.

-Friendly’s for lunch! Ice cream all around my friends!

-that afternoon they go to laser tag and completely dominated.

-Twins on one team, Watermelon Kids on the other.

-for some reason (the reason is called because I said so) they decide to go down to another boardwalk further south.

-on the way they go to lobster house for lunch (lobster house is amazing I don’t even really like it for the food it’s just the VIBES. they are. immaculate.)

-they go to Wildwood and ohhh

-Nino and Adrien are living it up on the rides

-rollercoaster, log flume, submarine ride slash game thingy!

-they’re doing it all

-and Felix and Mari are being so cute and domestic winning each other things at the games

-and then the arcade, where Felix is hopeless at Skeeball and ends up slipping and Mari helps him up while trying not to laugh

-can I just say that I think Mari is probably really good at claw machines?

-she has some weird sort of luck when she’s playing and she’ll always end up winning a prize

-they spend the night at a cute little hotel and the next day they go mini golfing

-now this is where Felix for some reason shines

-Mari keeps losing her golf ball and having to go search for it

-Adrien and Nino are both mediocre at it.

-Adrien got a hole in one and he and Nino screamed and Nino picked him up and spun him around

-they also got ice cream at said mini golf place

-Khor’s is just...*chefs kiss*. They all got the orange and vanilla swirl because I said so and it’s a Khor’s classic

-Felix picks an Italian place for dinner that night. It’s called Little Italy and it’s pretty good.

-and, that’s a wrap for New Jersey! Next...

-alllll the way down to.... North Carolina!

-they spend only a day in North Carolina, but they do go to these caves.

-and also, this place with food that’s mainly made of... alligator?

-basically, it’s a rest day.

-Mari gets SUPER inspired and buys fabric to make a jacket inspired by the caves and honestly it’s gorgeous because she used not only the tan of the rocks, but the beautiful blues of the water.

-NATHALIE BREAK

-she’s so tired but she’s having so much fun with her boys!!!

-she actually feels pretty well rested a few days into the trip.

-Nathalie can’t help but fuss over the kids

-and coo at their cuteness when they do cute things

-She and Mari always share a room

-and the three boys share a room

-Nathalie helps Mari do complicated braids because she’s super good at those and Mari can only do a basic braid.

-next!

-South Carolina!

-specifically Charleston.

-ghost tout ghost tour ghost tour

-“and this is the building where a dude saw the ship that held all his crops sink. He then proceeded to-“

-it gets graphic in that moment and Marinette is having fun but also isn’t a fan of thinking of... uh, head not being on body???

-pirates!!! They go into this cave thingy and see piratey stuff, which is entertaining for everyone because it’s creepy in the cave, which Mari enjoys, PIRATES, which Adrino enjoys, and history for the grumpy Felix

-it’s quiet and everyone’s happy, which Nathalie is living for.

-they mostly just walk around looking at pretty things the next day

-rainbow row rainbow row

-Mari is so inspired that she buys a cheap sketchbook from target just so she can get all these ideas down

-she desperately wants to sew but she has to wait since they don’t have access to a sewing machine.

-so, they eat at a sandwich shop before hitting the road.

-they make a quick stop in Georgia, laugh at a sign that lists the marvel movies made in Georgia, then leave.

-(sorry Georgia. I’m sure you’re a very nice state but I’ve had limited interaction with the state besides passing through and sometimes stopping to eat lunch.)

-this is the thing they’re very excited for!!!

-Florida!

-specifically, Orlando

-that’s right, DISNEY WORLD.

-they are spending a whole week here.

-that’s right, 7 days of fun.

-day 1, animal kingdom because they get there in the afternoon and there isn’t as much they want to see in animal kingdom. They have loads of fun though and are planning on dropping by another day for the first half of the day.

-next day is Magic Kingdom

-they go on so many rides.

-small world is Adrien’s favorite ride, don’t @ me.

-Casey’s Corner is where they get lunch because Mari loves the aesthetic.

-MINNIE EARS ALL AROUND

-Marinette has a different one for every outfit

-Aristocats ears!!!

-she can’t explain why she loves it, she just DOES.

-for their last day (yeah this is out of order but who cares) they park hop, ending in magic kingdom and staying for the fireworks. Our favorite designer wears these lovely light up ears

-when they went to animal kingdom on the first day you KNOW Mari had some cute ears

-shh don’t tell the boys and Nathalie but Felix actually asked Mari to be his girlfriend when they were in Hollywood studios

-they walked off together, and sat on a bench somewhere sharing a snack

-our extra boy asked if she could be his girlfriend with matching beauty and the beast rings

-Mari said yes and she smiled soooo much.

-it’s kind of hard to explain everything so let’s just talk about the interesting stuff!!

-Marinette VIBES with the princesses oh my god

-TIANA INSPIRED OUTFIT PLEASE

-Disney is V fun but... sorry boys, it’s time for Marinette to get some sewing done! (Also I’m kind of bored of writing Disney this took several weeks bc I would write like a sentence a day lol)

-CALIFORNIA TIME

-they do go for one day in Disneyland but most of it’s spent going to get some inspiration for Mari.

-fabric stores fabric stores.

-that girl is sketching and coming up with ideas like her life DEPENDS ON IT

-inspiration explosion

-also some normal Knick knack shopping, so Mari gets some time away from staring down at her tablet and sketchbook.

-resting and just going to try all different sorts of normal, causal restaurants

-living the life

-also, Felix and Mari go on their first date. I say first date Very Loosely because it’s actually them sitting in Mari’s hotel room eating pizza and watching a movie and though they both consider it a date, they want to have a cute, cliche first date when they back home.

-Speaking of home...

-They are about to fly back to Paris when they get a message from Jess, one of the girls who found Adrien in NY.

-It was a message from her asking if she could check her latest tweet.

-it was a recording of Jess playing guitar, the song (an instrumental version of Miraculous but slightly modified) being wonderfully sweet. Aeon, the other girl, was also in the video, humming along to Jess. At the end, Jess dedicated the video the them and they both gushed about how nice they were in person and that both of them had waited until they had the arrangement ready before they posted it on social media.

-it thawed even Felix’s icy heart.

-and as they flew back to Paris, Nathalie couldn’t help but think of what a perfectly wonderful trip it had been. Minus... the accidents.

-But there’s no need to talk about that here.

-They reach Paris safe and sound, and Marinette takes a long, long nap right before she goes into creative mode and sews all the outfits she had sketched. Advantages of being rich, you know? You don’t have to worry about fabric price.

-While Mari was sewing, everyone else was also slowing down.

-And gearing up to go back to school

-*dramatic music*

-What will happen next? Even I have no idea!

.......

It’s almost like.... I exist??? Haha, but seriously, sorry for sort of going MIA??? I finally finished this, mostly by getting lazy towards the end. Yes, before you say it, I don’t hate NYC. It’s cool there, I just love making fun of it and the fact the special cam eout a few days ago is just pure irony. All of those links should work, so you can actually buy the Disney things I’m talking about! If they aren’t, please tell me so I can fix them. Next up is the Nathalie mentioned “Accidents”. That should take way less time because I’m going to go with the tried and true method of “Make stuff up and hope it makes sense”. I say should because you never know with me, I’m a mess ❤️❤️❤️

Tag list: @bigpicklebananatree @kris-pines04 @animegirlweeb @akana-sama @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @virgolioness @goblinwhoships @toastlover21 @buginetye

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bloodybells1 · 4 years

Text

Lucky Dog

No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses.

—HERMAN MELVILLE

I look into the eyes of an animal.

I am in the habit of doing this with a little Brussels Griffon by the name of Casca, my canine, whose gentle orbs and spunk and flexibility make me forget that he is in fact a dog and not a cross between an Ewok and a Koala.

Not right now, though. These are different eyes, the ones of a Maltese crossed with a West Highland Terrier, peering through a curtain of matted hair draping over his brow, as he lays back on my futon. He has jumped up here as I lay down on it, after having flipped onto his back in a split second, in what seemed to have been a familiar move, so natural and quick. It was a gesture of near total compliance. He was egging me to stroke his belly.

There was something deep about his gaze, somewhat simian in intelligence, communicating a kinship, but difficult to pin down. If this creature hadn’t the capacity to at least conceive of complex, putatively human emotions and other states of mind—like fear, relief, care, or pleasure—lacking only a verbal means to communicate them, then everything that I was seeing in his eyes, the layers of thought and feeling, were just a coincidence of Mother Nature, some thing that animals do which I don’t have access to, but which I insist I do in the form of anthropomorphization.

Yet, that doesn’t seem possible: the facsimile is too close. These have to be the same things, or similar things, that we humans feel, that I am now sensing coming from this upturned canine lying on my lap on the futon.

At this point in the story, the dog’s name is Sammy.

Sheri, the woman who’d found him on the street, had posted on the NextDoor forum hoping that someone might claim him. She’d grabbed him on the corner of Broadway and 177th. The dog was in a panic, chaotically searching for his owner, crossing the street with his leash in tow, and she’d scooped him up and brought him to her nearby apartment. Sheri’s domestic situation precluded a canine presence: she wanted to find the owner of the dog, but more urgently, she needed someone to foster him in the meantime. Otherwise, she’d have to put him in a shelter. My girlfriend Bernie and I had taken pity and responded, offering ourselves as foster parents for the interim. We’d hold him until the owner showed up or until he’d otherwise find a permanent home.

We’d started calling him Buddy, but Sheri had asked he be named something with an “S,” so Bernie suggested “Sammy.”

And Sammy is taking this house by storm.

As it turns out, I’d met Sheri once before, though neither of us know this during our Zoom call. She’s leaning back on the headboard of her bed with the soon-to-be monikered Sammy laying supine, his favorite position, by her side. Bernie’s been texting with Sheri and now she and I are talking to Sheri over Zoom to take a look at Sammy, who is all but glowing through the screen, despite his matted hair which, even on the call, looks as though it's never once been brushed.

I’m having that funny feeling you get when someone seems familiar and you can’t quite place why, until later on in the conversation Sheri tells us her address and a little about her job and I put two and two together and realize she’s the wife of a good friend, a fellow actor and writer named Michael who lives in the neighborhood. I know that Michael’s wife is a make-up artist for various TV shows and—bam—the memory of having briefly met her outside her apartment building once before enters my head.

“Oh my God, this is going to sound creepy but I know who you are, Sheri. I know your husband. I know your son’s name. I’ve actually met your son. Benjamin, right? I’ve been to your house.”

Sheri’s jaw creeps open in amazement over the coincidence and I add with ironic omniscience, “I know everything about your life.”

“Wait . . . what? For real?” Sheri is having a hard time processing all of the information but immediately knows what to do next, which is to walk out of her bedroom and open Michael’s study. My friend’s familiar bookshelves and wall art come into view of the camera.

“Honey, look who I have on Zoom.”

Michael turns around and sees who’s on the other side and yells out my name, happy over the coincidence, as I am as well.

We come right over to pick up Sammy and it’s a nice reunion during a bleak pandemic year when I’ve been seeing very little of people outside of my three-block radius.

It seems that Sammy’s a bit of a good luck charm. He’s bringing people together. Bernie and I are taking him around the neighborhood, to the park just a block above our apartment and everyone is asking who this precious, white-haired creature is.

“We don’t know!” we keep saying. “Our friend found him in the street.”

“Are you going to keep him?”

“We don’t think so.”

“But he’s getting along so well with Casca.”

Indeed he is. He’s friendly. But Sammy’s also timid and nervous. He is after all, a strange dog in a strange land. I can’t imagine what must be going through his head. Who are these strange people? What is this strange neighborhood? Where are my owners?

That’s the thing. The owners.

We’re not so sure whether, in fact, there are any. We hear stories about how animals are often deposited in the city, right on the street, by callous owners with little patience—and little humanity—who then drive off and disappear, leaving the poor animals to be discovered by locals.

Some of Sammy’s details align with those stories. He was discovered not far from the George Washington Bridge, which would lend credence to the account of a disinterested owner from some place in, say, Westchester, who’d decided that Sammy had become a liability they could no longer sustain and who had left him in Washington Heights just before taking the quick way out into New Jersey over the bridge. Sammy’s coat is also completely tangled, with small knots, very much like dreadlocks, peppered throughout, with dirt and lint encrusted within, which suggests a type of neglect that might align with the story of someone who no longer wanted him. He also smells profoundly of urine, though this is likely to have happened from having to spend a night alone, if that is even the case. We just don’t know. Finally, it is abundantly clear that Sammy has not been neutered.

But there’re other details that don’t lend credence to that story. It only takes a couple of hours with him to see that Sammy, who is responsive and trusting and loving, had been cared for deeply by whomever had had him. He was loved. A quick pull on his lower lip reveals pristinely clean teeth, as well. Yes, he’s nervous, and he keeps pulling on his leash like a caught snapper. Every time we walk him he juts around like he’s on a desperate hunt. He has an air of desperation, a vigilance for possibly familiar faces that might pop out any second. But he looks at you with an unmistakable sense of domesticity. And he’s clearly house trained.

Sammy definitely has an owner. Someone who loves him. Of that we are certain.

So then why was he running around on the street? Sheri says that when she grabbed him on the sidewalk he was so scared and confused that he jumped into a car, idling and double-parked, at random, surprising the passengers before being pulled back out by Sheri. It’s obvious that he was in a car just before he was lost. He’s looking at every car, every vehicle that passes by, almost as if to check the make and model, hoping against hope it’s the one that left him in this frightening place.

I think back to a woman I used to care for. I was volunteering for an agency, ComForCare, seeing to social needs for seniors, primarily those living alone. She lived in an elder care facility in the Upper West Side. She wasn’t all that much older, but she had a severe case of schizophrenia, for which she was heavily medicated. She was a lovely lady with a sense of humor and a deep appreciation of art. We used to go to the movies and to the Met. She had difficulty holding conversations for a sustained period and she hoarded. It had been bad enough that her old apartment had needed to be professionally cleaned out. I saw it once and was given a window into what real hoarding looks like: stacks of books up to the ceiling, along with opaque grime on the walls. Still, she was lucid and functional enough to be able to take her car out when she wanted to go for a drive, she could order food and sit through a movie and extemporize about it afterwards and she could use the bus if she needed to commute around the city.

It occurred to me that, had she been moved to, she could have had a dog. She could’ve seen to its needs, fed it, stroked it, watered it, and otherwise cared for it. But the dog would, like Sammy, have borne traces of a style of care that is not regarded as, shall we say, complete.

My theory was that someone with a condition misplaced him. There’re all sorts of humane concerns regarding cleanliness and desexing which take only a couple of Google searches to discover. Therefore, so I reasoned, though Sammy was loved, he nonetheless had been neglected, and only a mental illness may account for the discrepancy. This person likely became disoriented in an unfamiliar neighborhood; perhaps they’d needed to pull over unexpectedly, and hadn’t realized that all of a sudden Sammy wasn’t in the car and drove away. They hadn’t realized it until it was too late, and were now frantically searching around for him, most likely not able to make the right calls to the right places, for “obvious” reasons. The poor owner, I thought, unable to do the right thing. Or maybe they were about to make the call to us. Who really knew? We were just theorizing.

Or maybe I had it all wrong and it was actually much simpler. Maybe the owner just straight up forgot about Sammy.

Sheri’s put up fliers within a two-block radius of where she found Sammy. She’s gone into several vets office’s in the area with news of the found dog. Bernie takes a picture of Sammy on our couch, staring at the camera as though his owner might pop out of the lens. He looks lost, even though he’s been found. He is lost, of course; but we have found him. And we’re seeing to it that he gets to where he belongs. So we follow suit with Sheri’s efforts and post the picture of Sammy with a notice on the largest Facebook group for lost dogs in Manhattan. We also register him with a local shelter which will post his photo and his information on their website. We’re like scientists at the SETI Institute, sending out radio waves into the vast ether, expecting a response from the deep, hoping that if there’s anyone out there searching for us, they will now be able to find us.

We’ve given Sammy a much-needed bath. I didn’t want to just throw him into the bathtub after all that he’s been through, so I waited several smelly hours while he lay next to me before we scrubbed him down. He ran around the apartment like he had a rash, scraping and rubbing his body against any surface he could find, the bottom of the sofa, the rug, the futon, while we chased him around with a towel, trying our best to alleviate that weird feeling dogs get when they’re wet. Casca, ever the Ewok, just sits, enraptured by the sight, like an older brother watching from the sidelines. After Sammy calms down I do my best to brush his hair but the dreadlocks make a proper brushing impossible. Still, he looks much better. In light of everything else it’s pretty inconsequential, but I go ahead and schedule an appointment with Casca’s groomer. I want Sammy to look as spiffy as possible in case the owners don’t show and we need to start finding him a new home.

Bernie takes off from work and brings Sammy to the vet. We need to find out if he has a HomeAgain microchip, that tiny piece of tech injected in between a puppy’s two scapulae, often during the first vet visit, the universally recognized system for canine and feline identification. If he has a microchip, it will lead us to his owner. They could be just a phone call away.

Bernie’s away for hours. Patients are not permitted inside the vet’s office during the pandemic and instead must wait outside while the dog is seen indoors. Vets are overloaded (everyone’s getting a dog for companionship during quarantine). Wait times are much longer than usual. She’s basically gone half the day. I’m sitting in the apartment with Casca, who is oddly quiet. I know him well enough to know the kind of quiet he’s in. It’s the “where’s Sammy” type. I have it too. I’m actually missing Sammy.

But it soon won’t matter that Sammy, indeed, has never been given a microchip.

It’s the day after the vet visit and I’m sitting with Sammy in my study, his head resting on the futon by my side. Bernie comes in with the news: “Sheri says that the owners have contacted her.”

My heart sinks. It’s Day Three of the Sammy Show and I take note of my awful disappointment, how crestfallen I now am, that the possibility he may be out of our lives very soon is here.

“Sheri’s asking them questions, to prove they’re the rightful owners,” Bernie adds.

“Yes,” I respond, in a tone not unlike hasty justice seekers at a trial convinced that the murderer has been found and that the jury must cast its verdict responsibly. “We need to see pictures and they have to confirm the color of his harness and leash.”

I catch myself sounding stern and paternalistic, like an eye witness to the crime defying an alternative account. Who are these people claiming to be his owners? I’m not about to let him go. The killer has been found, I think to myself, Sammy was abandoned and justice demands that he be fostered and adopted. Whoever says otherwise—like the killer claiming innocence—has the burden of proof against them.

Sammy senses something’s afoot. We know this about him already. Earlier in the day Bernie had gone out on an errand and about a minute before she returned, Sammy had “sensed” that she was headed back and sat upright with his ears pricked. One of my favorite thinkers, a spiritualist-scientist by the name of Rupert Sheldrake, ran a study about this phenomenon and published his results in a book called, unironically, Dogs that Know When Their Owners are Coming Home. Apparently, it’s a thing, and Sammy, by my estimation, is particularly tuned to this frequency.

He’s whining and agitated all of a sudden, as Bernie and Sheri are on the phone with each other to compare notes on the photos the owners claiming him have sent. He really knows something’s up when we bring his harness into the room to compare it with the photo. He’s hopping off and back on the futon in a restless state that seems to signify his premonition that the family he loves dearly is one step closer to him finally. This is a dog who has not let go of his owners and has stayed vigilant, even as he’s been nothing but a sweetheart during his stay, a stay that is now painfully coming to an end.

The photos lineup perfectly. He looks a little different, but that’s because they were taken when he’d just been groomed. But his harness is identical. There’s no denying it. These are the owners.

Bernie and I look at each other and shake our heads. Like some waking dream, we become aware of a journey, a kind of psychic binge, for which we’d previously had no awareness. Without knowing, we’d consented to fork over our brains and our hearts to go on an emotional rollercoaster, a ride that is now slowing down and edging into the landing bay. It had all been going too fast for us to take real notice of what it was all about. Only in the end do we now see that we’d lost ourselves.

Now that we know that Sammy will be back with a family who loves him, whom he wants to be with more than us, that we are no longer Sammy’s protectors, we let the judgement rip:

“What the hell? How do you lose a dog? I can’t believe this! This is so upsetting. The negligence!”

Things go negative.

It never mattered while he was in our charge. Negative thoughts were like passing clouds. We wanted to keep the skies clear for Sammy. He was our responsibility and we wanted to protect him. He’d already been through enough. So we didn’t care too much for passing judgement. After all, we weren’t even sure who these people were or what were the circumstances. It was all speculation. What mattered was Sammy’s safety.

But the moment has arrived and therefore we feel free to be angry. We want justice for our pains. We want accountability. All of a sudden, we are keenly preoccupied with the wages of the vast emotions we have expended on Sammy.

Then it passes, the initial blast of ire gives way to reason. We come to our senses.

“Of course mistakes happen.”

And who are we to judge?

And so we are left with the brutal phenomenon, unadorned by the needs of the dog, the care which we’d now finally finished giving. He is safe now. We can be free to look after ourselves. The only thing that’s left is grief.

“Tell them to come meet us as soon as possible,” I tell Bernie, meaning that she should tell Sheri, who’s in contact with them. They are desperate to get their dog back. A couple who live in New Jersey. The husband is texting with Sheri, begging to be allowed to pick him up. His family has been broken by the loss and he wants to heal, he says. I can’t deny the obvious show of vulnerability. I want the reunion to happen as soon as possible. But first I need to eat.

The tears flow down my cheeks swiftly. We finish dinner in silence as Sammy watches us patiently from the sofa. I have to look upwards to try to think of other things, to stay the onrush of salty teardrops. We gather our things and put on our coats and I almost lose it and let a couple quakes of my sternum pass through me before pulling myself together.

It’s that old feeling again, like when my old boy Gaius passed two years ago from lymphoma after just having turned thirteen. That sudden loss. That sharp removal. The very quick evacuation of something within, and the consequent hollowness that emerges, as though you were a sack of something meaty and full, a container that held large books or hefty Christmas toys, only for that container to be suddenly relinquished of its contents, contents which evaporate somehow, now nowhere to be found, leaving you with a newfound emptiness.

What is this bond, this decade-and-a-half long relationship that severs with such sudden brutality?

Why do we do it, undertake to care for these creatures? Creatures, by the way, who inevitably will betray us with their short lives, and, furthermore, whom we shall likewise betray by replacing them with descendants after they die, with heirs to their vests and doggy bowls and chew toys and harnesses who are themselves doomed to renew the fifteen year cycle. We can’t refurbish our pets, so we hand them in to God and buy a new one from the breeder or adopt one from the shelter. They last as long as the average car, which we also replace with a shiny, new version. When Gaius passed I lasted only a month without a dog, unlike, say, some of my neighbors who could not live down the memory of their old dog, who could not so readily renew the pact.

Sometimes I see my rush to replace as a sign of disingenuousness, for if the love were as true as I say to myself and the world that it in fact is, how could I replace my dog? Aren’t I lying to myself in thinking that Casca, who came into the house as a two-month-old ball of fur, practically on the heels of Gaius’ deathbed, receives an authentic love? Isn’t love more weighty? doesn’t it come with heavier strings? Are these just playthings that garner my obsession and adoration, but not my true heart? Isn’t this a fantasy? Aren’t they just animals, expendable lifeforms, just pets? When I exchanged those pregnant glances with Sammy on my futon, wasn’t I just staring into the eyes of a mere animal?

There lies an epistemic gulf between Homo sapiens and Canis familiaris. It is a relation bereft of semiotics. They don’t even know what is happening around them. We, as their keepers, hold the light of truth, we grant them access to the benefits of our civilization, the very same benefits that first brought them to us, when scraps thrown from the Paleolithic hearth lured those friendlier wolves, those beasts who’d decided to sever their Darwinian program and break for the humans, who’d opted for the good life outside the law of the jungle and chose to linger with these powerful pack leaders in control of fire and food. They will never know any of this. Unlike our children, whom we may teach our ways, into whose brains we implant the needs of our legacies, whom we teach our languages and whose cooperation we induce, who will be free to continue it or change it or revolutionize it as will be their wish after we pass, our dogs share no such beneficence and will live out their days in the dark, their small brains incapable of absorbing the mandates of our times. Everything they live for dies with them. Nothing gets left behind. No records. No tapes. Nothing they can fashion in their names, no society they can consciously call their own to leave behind.

The fact, then, that, in the midst of this gap, this uncrossable line, something does indeed cross, makes the thing that crosses, that special communication, that comprehension of which Melville spoke, all the more special. Even as there is nothing to say between us but that nonetheless just about everything is said speaks to the power of connection.

Whenever a dog looks into your eyes it is saying this:

I have no need for your ways. They are nothing to me. I do not even know what they are.

And I do not care. I only care about this.

The artist Banksy used to share uplifting memes on his Twitter account. One of them showed a picture of a man and a dog on a hillside overlooking a bay with ships on the horizon and two thought clouds positioned over their heads respectively. The human’s thought cloud was full of worry and preoccupation: will they call back? Have I paid the rent? What should I do after this? The canine’s was simply a facsimile of the very scene before which the two were sitting: a bay with ships on the horizon. The caption read: And we wonder why they are always the happy ones.

With each glance exchanged, a dog returns to sender (without opening) the merciless crux of our hubris and ambition, throughout history, throughout life. The dog says, “No thanks.” It does this by reaching into our souls with the only truly meaningful thing in life: connection. Despite your best efforts, the dog says, I am still connecting with you.

It says nothing suspicious that we replace these creatures after they die, that we invite new babies into the home, even as their predecessors have only recently passed. You still need friends and relatives when someone near and dear has passed. The same goes for animal energy. Another dog is only the continuation of the much larger bond between the species. It is a way to honor the very possibility of the bond in the first place. At least it was for me. I almost felt that Gaius, were it possible for him to express the conditional, would have wanted me to find another dog, to renew the pact between us in the form of another one of his kind.

The grief is worth it, if only to repay the species for what it bestows us, the respite from the constant distraction of civilization, of society, of rules and of niceties. It is worth it for the love they bring, hermetically encased from all that would corrupt it from without, right to our doorstep. It is worth it for the break. For the truth.

We lead Sammy back to Sheri’s apartment. Or rather, he leads us. He’s tugging on the leash. He knows he’s headed home. Sheri’s organized his triumphant return to the family with whom he belongs and with whom he is desperate to be reunited. I am still holding back tears as I try to keep him at bay, as he continues to zig and zag. Casca keeps approaching him, almost as if to ask, Hey man this has been so much fun I hope we can be pen pals. It’s cold and noisy in the streets.

We arrive at Sheri’s and stay in the lobby and the family comes in and Sammy sees them and runs at them at full speed, his tail vibrating like a tuning fork. He jumps up and they catch him. It’s a man and a woman, a couple, and their adolescent child, hanging in the back. The man tries to give us a reward but we refuse. We don’t wish to deny him the opportunity to be grateful, but we also don’t want to take money for what we’ve done. If anything, we should be giving him a reward.

The woman recounts the story of noting the day of his grooming appointment and that he was still missing and she starts crying. Apparently, Sammy has a brother who’s been missing him, though they didn’t bring the canine with them. Bernie hands the gentleman an envelope with all of the info from Sammy’s vet visit: he now has a microchip and some shots. They can sort out what to do next for Sammy. He’s only eighteen months old, the woman says, so it’s not too late to get him neutered. Sheri needs to spend some time emphasizing how jumpy Sammy is and that he requires incredible vigilance. “He’s a flight risk,” she says, making sure they know what she’s trying to say to them, that is, to be more careful.

This prompts the man to recount the story of how he lost Sammy. He dropped off his daughter just down the block and got back into his car. He drove through New Jersey and into Pennsylvania and only then noticed that Sammy was not in the car. Believing that he’d lost him at a rest stop in Lodi, New Jersey, he sent out his notices over there. It only occurred to him several days later that Sammy had jumped out of the car in Manhattan, after which he consulted the Facebook page where we’d posted his photo and was able to finally locate his dog.

He tells this story with a nonchalance I find insufficiently penitent. The anger starts to curdle within. Every time I get in the car with Casca, I think to myself, I am looking at the back seat to see if he is ok, every five minutes, or less. How do you lose a dog and cross two states and only then realize your own dog is no longer in the car? How is that even possible? It escapes me, and because it escapes me it makes me want to scream at the guy, scream at the family. I think about how terrified this dog was and the distinct possibility that he didn’t have to be as lucky as he was, that he could’ve easily been discovered by others not disposed towards canines as much as we all were, and what then? What could have happened to this very lucky dog then? I want to scream all of this in his face.

Sammy jumps up to the adolescent and the kid grabs Sammy in midair and he’s licking his face all over and the kid is very happy to have his dog back. “Can I bring him into the car, mom?” he asks the woman. When she nods he goes through the door and I never see Sammy again.

We finally conclude all the talk and wish the family well and they are off. Sheri, Bernie and I keep talking in her lobby, while Casca sits on his side looking wanly through the doors to the outside. As Sheri departs she says we should all get together for some grub as soon as the vaccine gets distributed and some sense of normality returns. There are so many of these rain checks these days. I can only imagine it’ll be a nationwide feast once the masks are removed and people can feel it’s ok to breathe on each other again.

Bernie and I pick up a Christmas tree on the way back home. Plus a wreath. It’s cold outside and I don’t have cash and I run across the street to the ATM and then it occurs to me just how lucky I have it. I’m buying a tree without thinking about it. Something not everyone can do. I have privileges. Not everyone has the same opportunities. What’s more is not everyone has the same way of ambling about things, the same way of making one’s way. Some people, quite plainly, are just more forgetful. I remember a story someone told me of a friend of there’s who forgot their own kid in a public square and took a bus back home without the child. He noted that he loved his kids very much but that didn’t stop him from having a super lousy memory.

I feel stupid for my initial theory about the owner having a mental illness. I was wrong about that. They were just forgetful.

Obviously there are humane concerns. These dogs need to be cared for. But we have to care for each other too. And, in this case, that means accepting that everybody is struggling and everybody is hurting and everybody is surviving, and therefore compassion is the key.

Homo sapiens is an animal species too. When I look into the eyes of a fellow human, I am also looking into the eyes of an animal, as they are when they look into my eyes. We are animals. We are animals that have to take care of each other, too.

I can be angry that someone was negligent to a poor canine. But I also have to let it go. Who am I to judge?

As I purchase the tree and grab the wreath, something of the Christmas spirits wafts into the scene, and my ire lifts. Bernie, Casca and I are now free to return to our lives with all of the time and space that this pandemic allows for processing momentous events such as these.

How apt, we say to ourselves on the way back, remarking about Sammy’s real name, which we learned when the owners were initially claiming him, that he was called Lucky.

#dogs #dogs of tumblr #lost dog #found dog

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