• Home
  • About
    • About Last Night
    • Terry Teachout
    • Contact
  • AJBlogCentral
  • ArtsJournal

About Last Night

Terry Teachout on the arts in New York City

You are here: Home / 2005 / Archives for May 2005

Archives for May 2005

TT: Almanac

May 9, 2005 by Terry Teachout

“Many false conceptions are held concerning the nature of tedium. In general it is thought that the interestingness and novelty of the time-content are what ‘make the time pass’; that is to say, shorten it; whereas monotony and emptiness check and restrain its flow. That is only true with reservations. Vacuity, monotony, have, indeed, the property of lingering out the moment and the hour and of making them tiresome. But they are capable of contracting and dissipating the larger, the very large time-units, to the point of reducing them to nothing at all. And conversely, a full and interesting content can put wings to the hour and the day; yet it will lend to the general passage of time a weightiness, a breadth and solidity which cause the eventful years to flow more slowly than those poor, bare, empty ones over which the wind passes and they are gone. Thus what we call tedium is rather an abnormal shortening of the time consequent upon monotony. Great spaces of time passed in unbroken uniformity tend to shrink together in a way to make the heart stop beating for fear; when one day is like all the others, then they are all like one; complete uniformity would make the longest life seem short, and as though it had stolen away from us unawares. Habituation is a falling asleep or fatiguing of the sense of time; which explains why young years pass slowly, while later life flings itself faster and faster upon its course. We are aware that the intercalation of periods of change and novelty is the only means by which we can refresh our sense of time, strengthen, retard, and rejuvenate it, and therewith renew our perception of life itself.”


Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain (courtesy of Paul Moravec)

TT: Among the kudzu

May 9, 2005 by Terry Teachout

I’ve made a pretty good start at answering all my accumulated blogmail. Thanks for your patience!


The unceasing task of keeping my in-basket empty has been complicated of late by the fact that the “About Last Night” e-mailbox is growing increasingly full of spam and press releases (same difference, mostly), not to mention the usual solicitations for stamina-enhancing products, poorly spelled fundraising appeals from somewhere in Africa, and messages written in Oriental characters of one kind or another, all of which are, er, Greek to me. As a result, the personal e-mail I want to read is getting harder and harder to pluck from the commercial foliage.


If you’re a real live human being who reads this blog, please keep on writing. Your mail will be found, opened, read, and answered sooner or later, unless it’s in Korean or has a subject header hinting at a breakthrough in the problem of, shall we say, puissance.


If, on the other hand, you’re a publicist, I should warn you that I delete press releases sent to “About Last Night” without reading them. Publicists should write to me at my personal e-mail address. (Those publicists who don’t know what it is probably shouldn’t be writing to me at all, but that’s another story.)


P.S. Our Girl has her own mailbox, to which you should write directly if you want to comment on a posting whose title begins with “OGIC.” The e-mail buttons for both boxes can be found in the top module of the right-hand column.

OGIC: Old Masters on parade

May 8, 2005 by Terry Teachout

An alert reader tipped me off that I should include links to the paintings Randall Jarrell writes about in the poem below, and he’s absolutely right. I’m about to add them to the original post, and I list them here, too:


– Georges La Tour’s St. Sebastian Mourned by St. Irene.

– Hugo van der Goes’s Nativity, which serves as the central panel of the Portinari Alterpiece, whose wings are also described in the poem and may be viewed here and here.

– And, of course, the justly famous Bruegel painting Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.


I’ll have to get back to you on the Veronese.


I’ve been thinking of doing some serious winnowing of my book collection, which is slowly but surely taking over the space in which I live. Today, however, was one of those days when I’m reminded of why I hesitate. Unsatisfied with what images I could find online of the van der Goes painting (the Web Museum image linked above is quite good, but I missed it in my earlier Google Image search), I scanned my art books shelf and came up with the big, beautiful Art Treasures of the Uffizi & Pitti, which contains a crisp, gorgeous color plate of the central panel. It was definitely a moment when the hulking mass of bound paper in here looked, for a blessed second, like a library of my own, a collection containing wonders I didn’t know I had. What else is in here? When will I stumble on it, and on what unforeseen quest? It’s the upside of owning almost twice as many books as you’ve read. So maybe, I’m now thinking, the object isn’t so much to get rid of books as to get to know them a little better.

OGIC: Punch-drunk love

May 8, 2005 by Terry Teachout

With the coming of The Cod (who talks exactly like he blogs, by the way), food bloggery has regained the luster it had lost, for me at least, when Julie/Julia went offline to become a book. Ever the eager Me-Tooist, I’m fixing to jump on this bandwagon. I’ll wisely leave the Art of Cooking to Mr. Cod, however, and content myself with its M.F.K.-approved sister art, the Art of Eating. Well, or, um…in this case the Art of Drinking. Close enough for you?


Which is all preamble to saying that, thanks to my good friends here (at least I want to be their friend), I have discovered a brilliant wine that I’d never heard of before last week. It comes from Austria, of all places, and is my new favorite wine, especially with the warm weather seemingly locked into place now. The varietal is Gr

OGIC: Reader-ly

May 8, 2005 by Terry Teachout

If you’re in Chicago, you can read my essay on the identity crisis that sometimes comes of being both a newspaper book critic and a book blogger in this week’s Chicago Reader. It’s not available online, alas.


This week’s edition of the Reader is one of their twice-yearly book issues. It also contains a story about blogger Wendy McClure, whose book was just published; a look at the adventures of running Oak Park’s indie bookstore The Book Table; a small army of mini-reviews, including a handful by Bookslut; and a lot more. The Spring and Fall Book Specials are really the Reader at its best. They always do a bang-up job with it, so I was delighted to be asked to contribute.


I might be getting a link from the Reader soon to a pdf file of my story. If that doesn’t materialize, I’ll post some excerpts over the next week.

OGIC: Pictures of a universe

May 8, 2005 by Terry Teachout

Friday was the 91st anniversary of Randall Jarrell’s birth. I’m crazy about his sole novel, Pictures from an Institution, which has provided me and Terry with more than a few fortune cookies and almanacs: see, for instance, one,
two,
three,
four,
five, and
six. (If Pictures isn’t the single most quoted novel on this website, it must be a close second.) And Jarrell’s poetry is a reliable pleasure. The following poem belongs to a favorite subgenre of mine, poetry about painting, along with Browning’s dramatic monologues “Andrea del Sarto” and “Fra Lippo Lippi,” Williams’s “Pictures from Bruegel,” and Auden’s “Musee des Beaux Arts” (to which Jarrell’s poem responds). Enjoy.


* * *


The Old and the New Masters


About suffering, about adoration, the old masters

Disagree. When someone suffers, no one else eats

Or walks or opens the window–no one breathes

As the sufferers watch the sufferer.

In St. Sebastian Mourned by St. Irene

The flame of one torch is the only light.

All the eyes except the maidservant’s (she weeps

And covers them with a cloth) are fixed on the shaft

Set in his chest like a column; St. Irene’s

Hands are spread in the gesture of the Madonna,

Revealing, accepting, what she does not understand.

Her hands say: “Lo! Behold!”

Beside her a monk’s hooded head is bowed, his hands

Are put together in the work of mourning.

It is as if they were still looking at the lance

Piercing the side of Christ, nailed on his cross.

The same nails pierce all their hands and feet, the same

Thin blood, mixed with water, trickles from their sides.

The taste of vinegar is on every tongue

That gasps, “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”

They watch, they are, the one thing in the world.



So, earlier, everything is pointed

In van der Goes’ Nativity, toward the naked

Shining baby, like the needle of a compass.

The different orders and sizes of the world:

The angels like Little People, perched in the rafters

Or hovering in mid-air like hummingbirds;

The shepherds, so big and crude, so plainly adoring;

The medium-sized donor, his little family,

And their big patron saints; the Virgin who kneels

Before her child in worship; the Magi out in the hills

With their camels–they ask directions, and have pointed out

By a man kneeling, the true way; the ox

And the donkey, two heads in the manger

So much greater than a human head, who also adore;

Even the offerings, a sheaf of wheat,

A jar and a glass of flowers, are absolutely still

In natural concentration, as they take their part

In the salvation of the natural world.

The time of the world concentrates

On this one instant: far off in the rocks

You can see Mary and Joseph and their donkey

Coming to Bethlehem; on the grassy hillside

Where their flocks are grazing, the shepherds gesticulate

In wonder at the star; and so many hundreds

Of years in the future, the donor, his wife,

And their children are kneeling, looking: everything

That was or will be in the world is fixed

On its small, helpless, human center.



After a while the masters show the crucifixion

In one corner of the canvas: the men come to see

What is important, see that it is not important.

The new masters paint a subject as they please,

And Veronese is prosecuted by the Inquisition

For the dogs playing at the feet of Christ,

The earth is a planet among galaxies.

Later Christ disappears, the dogs disappear: in abstract

Understanding, without adoration, the last master puts

Colors on canvas, a picture of the universe

In which a bright spot somewhere in the corner

Is the small radioactive planet men called Earth.

TT: Sweet comic valentine

May 6, 2005 by Terry Teachout

It’s Friday, this is my Wall Street Journal drama-column teaser, and everybody else is wrong about Christina Applegate and Sweet Charity:

Walter Bobbie, director of the Broadway revival of “Chicago” that’s still going strong after nine years, has done a similarly sterling job here. His staging of the scene in which Charity hides in a closet to avoid embarrassing her kindly benefactor Vittorio (Paul Schoeffler, who is just right) should be taught in drama schools. Denis O’Hare is a hoot as Oscar, Charity’s wimpy boyfriend. The sleazy hookers who sing “Big Spender” are so tough, you could strike wet matches off them. Even the pit band catches your ear, in part because of Don Sebesky’s gleaming new orchestrations.


As for Ms. Applegate, she’s a charmer, winsome, witty and alive. Her singing voice is plenty good enough, and though she’s only a so-so hoofer, choreographer Wayne Cilento has done a near-miraculous job of staging her numbers in such a way as to divert your eye from her limitations. Would I have preferred seeing an all-singing-all-dancing Broadway baby like Ms. d’Amboise or Tracy Shayne tear up the stage in “I’m a Brass Band”? Duh, of course–but I really did enjoy watching Ms. Applegate doing her damnedest up there, and I bet this won’t be her last musical….

On the other hand, we’re all right about Glengarry Glen Ross:

David Mamet won the Pulitzer Prize 20 years ago for “Glengarry Glen Ross,” his fathomlessly dark portrait of a group of cutthroat Chicago real-estate salesmen. Now it’s back on Broadway, directed by Joe Mantello and performed on a pair of ultra-realistic sets designed by Santo Loquasto in which every detail is on the nose, all the way down to the sickly green paint on the walls of the fluorescent-lit office in which Mr. Mamet’s characters snap for “leads” like a tankful of starving piranhas. No less convincing is Liev Schreiber, who plays Richard, the flesh-eating sociopath who’ll say anything to close a deal. With his close-cropped hair, sleek bullet head and blowtorch intensity, he looks and sounds positively demonic….

As for the Broadway transfer of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, well, duh, of course:

James Lapine, the director, has rejiggered things slightly but significantly to accommodate the bigger house’s thrust stage and arena seating, with results that left me happily bedazzled. The cast of the original production is unchanged–and rightly so, “Putnam County” being perfect in every possible way, zany and touching and super-smart. I predict it will run forever, and I plan to go back and see it yearly. (I’ve already been three times, once on my own dime.)

(Incidentally, I just got an advance CD of the original-cast album. Too much reverb on the dialogue, but otherwise it’s a lovely souvenir.)


No link. Buy the damn paper already, for God’s sake. Or go here for a lead.


And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to drive upstate to read a Shakespeare sonnet at an outdoor wedding….

TT: Almanac

May 6, 2005 by Terry Teachout

Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye,

Steal me awhile from mine own company.


William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

« Previous Page
Next Page »

Terry Teachout

Terry Teachout, who writes this blog, is the drama critic of The Wall Street Journal and the critic-at-large of Commentary. In addition to his Wall Street Journal drama column and his monthly essays … [Read More...]

About

About “About Last Night”

This is a blog about the arts in New York City and the rest of America, written by Terry Teachout. Terry is a critic, biographer, playwright, director, librettist, recovering musician, and inveterate blogger. In addition to theater, he writes here and elsewhere about all of the other arts--books, … [Read More...]

About My Plays and Opera Libretti

Billy and Me, my second play, received its world premiere on December 8, 2017, at Palm Beach Dramaworks in West Palm Beach, Fla. Satchmo at the Waldorf, my first play, closed off Broadway at the Westside Theatre on June 29, 2014, after 18 previews and 136 performances. That production was directed … [Read More...]

About My Podcast

Peter Marks, Elisabeth Vincentelli, and I are the panelists on “Three on the Aisle,” a bimonthly podcast from New York about theater in America. … [Read More...]

About My Books

My latest book is Duke: A Life of Duke Ellington, published in 2013 by Gotham Books in the U.S. and the Robson Press in England and now available in paperback. I have also written biographies of Louis Armstrong, George Balanchine, and H.L. Mencken, as well as a volume of my collected essays called A … [Read More...]

The Long Goodbye

To read all three installments of "The Long Goodbye," a multi-part posting about the experience of watching a parent die, go here. … [Read More...]

Follow Us on TwitterFollow Us on RSSFollow Us on E-mail

@Terryteachout1

Tweets by TerryTeachout1

Archives

May 2005
M T W T F S S
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031  
« Apr   Jun »

An ArtsJournal Blog

Recent Posts

  • Terry Teachout, 65
  • Gripping musical melodrama
  • Replay: Somerset Maugham in 1965
  • Almanac: Somerset Maugham on sentimentality
  • Snapshot: Richard Strauss conducts Till Eulenspiegel

Copyright © 2025 · Magazine Pro Theme on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in