• 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 / Archives for main

TT: Elsewhere

July 19, 2004 by Terry Teachout

Once again, it’s time for the regular “About Last Night” Monday-morning Web surf. Here are some links from the past week that I thought worth passing on:


– In case you haven’t seen it yet, Anne E. Kornblut, the Boston Globe‘s senior political correspondent, put together a neat little are-you-red-or-blue culture quiz for Slate. Go here to take it.


– The Out of the Past bandwagon continues to pick up speed! Something Old, Nothing New has posted some characteristically shrewd reflections
of his own on the quintessential film noir:

The popularity of the film noir was in part, I think, a way of increasing sex and violence in movies — sex implied rather than shown, of course — without violating the rule that movies had to be moral and uplifting. A film noir shows or implies all kinds of debauchery, but then adds that all the debauched people get punished in the end. (Or in the case of The Big Sleep, gets the audience so confused that they can’t tell who committed which act of debauchery.) It’s the equivalent of those early Cecil B. DeMille movies where two hours of orgies are followed by five minutes of spiritual uplift.

– New to “Sites to See” is a blog by West Coast dance critic Rachel Howard called Footnotes (great title). Howard writes
in defense of assigning star ratings to performances:

But why shouldn’t we recommend dance performances to one another with various degrees of enthusiasm? Why shouldn’t we codify that degree of excitement in a symbol that will bring more readers to dance reviews? Instead, right now, the absence of a rating signals to the Everyman Joe reader, “Don’t bother reading about this show, it’s very serious and too arty for you and therefore can’t possibly be entertaining.”

Somewhat to my surprise, I agree–though I’ve never been good at coming up with letter grades and star ratings on the rare occasions when magazines and newspapers require me to supply them. Nevertheless, Howard has persuaded me that it’s not a bad idea.


– Tyler Green of Modern Art Notes interviews Jerry Saltz, art critic of the Village Voice. Money quote:

People often ask me, “Why do you write about things that you don’t like?” And it breaks my heart. You would never say that to a sportswriter or a restaurant critic or a film reviewer or a book reviewer. But in the art world, for some reason, people get down on or even demonize you for saying something is faulty. It’s a very Bush-Cheney time. I think writing what you really think is a way of showing art respect.

Once again, I agree, at least in principle, even though I happen to think I’m better at writing about what I like. Most other critics aren’t–and they ought to work harder at it.


– More on Fahrenheit 9/11 and the problem of political art, this time from Steven Zeitchik of Publishers Weekly, who writes in The Wall Street Journal:

Of course, the documentary form doesn’t always function this way. At its best–e.g., Frederick Wiseman’s films on high schools and hospitals, the weird constellations of “Crumb” and “Capturing the Friedmans,” the Vietnam-centered “Hearts and Minds”–it is propelled by a sense of discovery. Neither filmmaker nor viewer knows what he is getting into until he really starts busying himself with it.


Movies like “Outfoxed,” “Control Room” and “Fahrenheit 9/11” work differently. They begin by knowing their thesis–and their audience–and operate backward. In the process, artists keen to point up the propagandistic efforts of others show themselves all too willing to take part in such efforts themselves.


Yet to call these films propaganda is also to misunderstand them. They don’t seek to convince the unconvinced or herd the untamed. They aim directly at the sheep….Call them flockumentaries, movies people attend en masse, to nestle together in easy confirmation of their most cherished beliefs–to learn, really, what they already know.

– Courtesy of Gnostical Turpitude, a fun piece by Philip Hensher on indexes with character:

A fine example came last year with Ruth Dudley Edwards’s book about Hugh Cudlipp and Cecil King. The author had a very difficult time with King’s appalling widow, Dame Ruth Railton, a woman for whom very few people ever had a good word. The book itself was a model of restraint when dealing with her excesses, but when it came to the index, the gloves came off, in part running: “marriage; psychic powers believed in by King; disliked by his friends; King wants as musical director of ATV; encourages his megalomania; increasing possessiveness… moves to Ireland with King; denounces Cudlipp; hatred of Ireland; gets rid of family correspondence; cocoons King from children and grandchildren; and King’s death; disposes of his money; treatment of his family; traumatises Secker and Warburg.”

I’ve never done anything like that in any of my books, but I’ve been tempted….


– Michele Williams, call your office. (And no, the rest of you aren’t supposed to get it. This is a coded announcement going out to Smalltown, U.S.A. We return you now to our regularly scheduled posting.)


– A point to ponder, from Dan Henninger’s Wall Street Journal column about the survey of American literary reading habits issued two weeks ago by the National Endowment for the Arts:

It’s also worth noting that while the Endowment explicitly says mysteries are literature, its definition doesn’t include biography or history. Thus, taking a month to read Ron Chernow’s magnificent biography of Alexander Hamilton doesn’t count. Surely it should.

Under normal circumstances, my next sentence would have started “Speaking as a biographer,” but now that my nomination to the National Council on the Arts has been announced, I’m not supposed to write anything about the NEA, good or bad, until the Senate votes on me. So I won’t.


– A friend of mine who recently had a baby swears that this is her all-time favorite New Yorker cartoon. In fact, she actually thought of sending it out as a birth announcement. (I guess it beats the old Charles Addams cartoon whose caption, if I remember correctly, was “Congratulations…it’s a baby!”)


– Speaking of The New Yorker, yes, Alex, I noticed the anagrams for “Terry Teachout” in the title of your posting celebrating the first anniversary of “About Last Night.” Very clever. This brought to mind a posting from a year ago in which I reported the results of my own anagrammatic self-analysis. For those who’ve forgotten, these were the best ones:


Reroute thy act

Outcry at three

Hey, actor, utter!

Etch your tater

Treachery tout

That cuter yore

Ratty, cute hero

Retract ye thou!


And my own favorite:


The Tory Curate


– Finally, Ed outs Our Girl. Who knew?

TT: Almanac

July 19, 2004 by Terry Teachout

“The good parts of a book may be something a writer is lucky enough to overhear or it may be the wreck of his whole damn life–and one is as good as the other.”


Ernest Hemingway, letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald, Sept. 4, 1929

OGIC: Chicagocentric

July 19, 2004 by Terry Teachout

– In The New Republic, Jed Perl calls the Art Institute of Chicago’s new Seurat show a golden opportunity, but one that the AIC fumbled:

“Seurat and the Making of La Grande Jatte” is the latest salute to the museum’s crown jewel, and while the show’s strengths do honor to the painting and to the city, the exhibition is very, very far from being an unadulterated success. Its failures speak volumes about what the people who run today’s museums think the public wants–and how, perhaps, in the eighty years since La Grande Jatte came into the museum’s collection, the people in charge at the Art Institute have shrunk their assumptions about what the public can absorb. A transcendent medium-sized exhibition has been nearly ruined by the museum’s insistence on producing a multimedia extravaganza….


A great chance to educate the public has been botched in Chicago. For Seurat’s studies for La Grande Jatte, seen in such dazzling profusion, tell a story of the workings of the imagination that anybody can understand without audio-visual assistance. The one thing that the Art Institute has been wise to include is an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of paper, a handout that is available as you enter the crucial phase of the show, which contains a reproduction of La Grande Jatte and a brief explanation of the way that the studies for the painting have been grouped in order to reflect, as best we can understand, the stages of Seurat’s thinking. Walking around with this information sheet, people can begin to grasp Seurat’s strenuous process of trial and error, and his arrival at the riveting vision of the final painting. One morning, I saw a woman and what I expect was her second- or third-grade daughter making their way around the room. The girl was picking out the changes, the shifts that Seurat made as he developed and honed his ideas. All it took were her eyes and her native intelligence. She didn’t need a movie to help her compare a study of a figure to the figure in the painting, and she didn’t need a simulated zoom-in to enable her to look at the texture of Seurat’s paint strokes. By looking directly, by seeing things for herself, this girl was taking possession of the painting. The magic of creation is there for all to see, for all to embrace, if only the museum would let people get on with it.

Perl’s review has much to say about Seurat’s virtues as well as this particular show’s failings. I’ll try to go see the exhibit anyway; the painting is so iconic and ubiquitous here in Chicago that I think I stopped really seeing it years ago. It will be good to go and take a fresh look.


– Word Wars, the Scrabble documentary whose directors I interviewed last January, is finally hitting Chicago. It opens at Facets Cin

TT: Resident artisan

July 16, 2004 by Terry Teachout

A reader writes:

I’m curious, and it might be worth blogging about: what does your work space look like? I once saw a photo book of writers’ studies, and I spent hours poring over photographs of desks, bookshelves, odd pieces of detritus thumbtacked to the walls, and I came away believing (perhaps wrongly) that I knew a bit more about each of them. We know some of what is on the walls, so what about the rest?

I work at home in a small office-bedroom whose third-floor window looks down on a quiet, tree-lined block of Upper West Side brownstones. The window is to my left, a clothes closet to my right, and over the closet is a sleeping loft. (The ceilings in my apartment are unusually high.) The walls are white, the furniture black, the rug black and tan. I sit on a cheap, creaky swivel chair. My desk is one of those Danish-style slab-and-tube jobs: four shelves, no drawers. The shelf on which I work holds my iBook, a pair of good-quality desktop speakers hooked up to the computer (I often listen to music while I write), a phone-fax-answering machine, an external zip drive, and a tall, sometimes shaky stack of review CDs. My printer is on the bottom shelf. The shelf immediately above eye level holds a few framed pictures, a flashlight (just in case),
and two short stacks of review copies and bound galleys of forthcoming books.


On the top shelf are:


– The Library of America’s Flannery O’Connor: Collected Works

– Four hardbound Viking Portables: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Henry James, Joseph Conrad, and Johnson & Boswell

– An old Modern Library collection of Montaigne’s essays

– Dostoyevsky’s Demons

– Kenneth Minogue’s Alien Powers: The Pure Theory of Ideology

– Arlene Croce’s Writing in the Dark, Dancing in The New Yorker

– David Thomson’s New Biographical Dictionary of Film

– H.L. Mencken’s New Dictionary of Quotations

– The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary

– Fowler’s Modern English Usage

– A Terry Teachout Reader


To my immediate left, below the window sill, are two neat stacks of books and papers. To my right is a small wheeled hutch that contains office supplies and other papers. Atop the hutch are two boxes full of Giorgio Morandi and Fairfield Porter notecards, a small rock from the shore of Isle au Haut, and a Cup of Chicha coffee mug full of pens and pencils. Beyond it is an electronic keyboard on a floor stand, and beyond the keyboard, next to the closet, is a case of books about music. Behind my chair are seven custom-made cases containing 3,000 CDs.


Hanging on the walls are:


– A framed gold record given to me by the members of Nickel Creek

– A Hatch Show Print poster
advertising a concert by Bill Monroe and His Blue Grass Boys, printed from the original blocks

– A poster advertising a 1974 Hans Hofmann show at Andr

TT: The reader over your shoulder

July 16, 2004 by Terry Teachout

My posting about the potential embarrassments of reading in public has brought in some delightful responses, but none better than this:

Your reminiscences brought to mind some less-than-pleasant scenes from my
days as a pre-adolescent, adolescent and post-adolescent bookworm…and one
story you might find amusing.


It was back in ’74 or ’75, at Dumont High School in N.J.; one day,
standing outside the auditorium waiting to go into an assembly or something,
I had my nose stuck in Harold Pinter’s “The Homecoming.” A very perky, very blonde,
reasonably sweet cheerleader noticed what I was reading and said, “Oh,
that’s so cool!”


Well, naturally I was kind of…flabbergasted. But hey, you never know with
people…and I did have one of those lusting-from-afar crushes on the young
lady, so I said something fairly lame, along the lines of, “Yeah it’s really
something,” to which she replied with an eager “Uh-huh.”


Not knowing where to take this, I thought I would make a joke. “I think the
Drama Club ought to do this sometime.” And she beamed and said, “Yes,
absolutely.” And then she paused and said, “Who do you think should play
John-boy?”


It took me a few seconds before I put it together and realized that she was
under the impression that what I was reading was the script for the
television movie that served as the pilot for the series “The Waltons,” also
titled “The Homecoming.” I was bitterly disappointed for a second, and then
relieved to be returned to the reality I knew.


So be wary of that fantasy waitress….

Actually, all the waitresses at Good Enough to Eat, my neighborhood hangout, are maximally cool. Several are performers of various kinds, and when possible I go to see their shows. (Where are you now, Shannon Hope Lee?) As for the other restaurants in the immediate vicinity, though, I make no promises!

TT: If not now, when?

July 16, 2004 by Terry Teachout

“About Last Night” got written up yesterday in Publishers Lunch, the daily publishing-industry e-mail newsletter (go here to subscribe). I thought what they said might interest you:

Finally, the big blog occasion this week is the one-year anniversary of cultural critic Terry Teachout’s abundant blog About Last Night. He writes, “Blogs are the 21st-century counterpart of the periodical essays of the eighteenth century, the Spectators and Ramblers and Idlers that supplied familiar essayists with what was then the ideal vehicle for their intensely personal reflections. Blogging stands in the sharpest possible contrast to the corporate journalism that exerted so powerful an effect on writing in the twentieth century.”


Other bloggers write to celebrate the generally rising profile, quality and influence of blogs. What strikes me is the way Teachout has utterly changed his profile as a critic and his relationship with his audience through his blog in just a year. It’s no accident that he’s had three books coming during the year that he’s been blogging, and he’s developed a meaningful connection with a large circle of readers (he cites about half a million page views).


As I noted on my BEA blogger panel, what writers do best is write. Blogs are a great way of letting writers connect on a regular basis with readers, and attract new audiences and fans, while still keeping whatever respectful distance they like and having the power of their words rule the day. I still can’t figure out why everyone isn’t getting their authors to blog.

Beats me.

TT: Starring Kristen Johnston

July 16, 2004 by Terry Teachout

I’m back in The Wall Street Journal again this morning, reviewing the Public Theater’s Central Park production of Much Ado About Nothing and a one-woman off-off-Broadway show, Janine Squillari’s I Need a Guy Who Blinks.


Much Ado was slow to get off the ground, but Kristen Johnston was great right from the start:

The six-foot-tall alien of TV’s “Third Rock from the Sun” also has an impressive track record on stage, including a vital performance earlier this year in the New Group’s revival of Wallace Shawn’s obnoxious “Aunt Dan and Lemon,” and though she’s a Shakespearean debutante, she clearly has great things ahead of her. As Beatrice, the hard-nosed bride-to-be of “Much Ado,” Ms. Johnston bestrides the stage like a full-fledged star, seizing your attention with every word she speaks (and even when not speaking–I couldn’t take my eyes off her in the crowd scenes). Her dark-brown baritone voice cleaves the air like a well-honed knife, one that she not infrequently turns on herself. Not only does she have the happy knack of knowing how to be funny and rueful at the same time, but her handsome, wide-mouthed face, at once sexy and silly, was custom-made for comedy. When she orders her hapless suitor Benedick (Jimmy Smits) to “kill Claudio,” you want to run right out and tie the noose.


The trouble with the first three-fifths of the play is that David Esbjornson, the director, has failed to create a convincing setting for Ms. Johnston’s magical presence. He has updated the play to Sicily circa 1919, but for no apparent reason other than to appeal to the “Under the Tuscan Sun” crowd, and his puzzling period references (including a bizarre scene set in a Futurist disco) shed no light on Shakespeare’s sufficiently luminous text….


Then came the wedding scene, and everything started to hum. Mr. Esbjornson shook off the confusing superfluities of the previous acts and homed in on the play’s emotional truths, and all at once the whole cast snapped to attention. It was like a helicopter taking off. Actors who had been slightly off target suddenly got the point: Mr. Waterston became frighteningly angry, Mr. Smits charmingly funny, and Brian Murray, who had hitherto fallen flat as Dogberry, the idiot constable, turned before our eyes into a gloriously plummy-voiced boob whose every polysyllabic malapropism brought down the house. Nobody on stage put a foot wrong for the rest of the night.

I Need a Guy Who Blinks may not be Shakespeare, but it’s hair-raisingly relevant:

An 80-minute monologue in which Ms. Squillari describes a disastrous string of bad dates, bad relationships and bad breakups, it is every Gen-X woman’s worst nightmare come to life–plus laughs. Ms. Squillari claims to have an infallible track record when it comes to dating: “Granted, I may not have always made the best choices in men. In fact, I’ve never made a good choice in men.” Fortunately, she was taking notes as she lurched from bed to bed, and she tells her horror stories with a self-loathing glee guaranteed to make every man in the audience take stock of his own peculiarities. I especially liked the questionnaire she created in order to screen out losers up front: “How many people are involved in a monogamous relationship? (A) One. (B) Two. (C) Three.”

No link, so if you want to read the whole thing (and if not, why not?), buy a Friday Journal, turn to the “Weekend Section,” and look for my drama column right next to the Wall Street Journal/ZAGAT Theater Survey. Or subscribe to The Wall Street Journal Online by going here. That’s what I do.

TT: Almanac

July 16, 2004 by Terry Teachout

“Wearing a dinner jacket, Umfraville was otherwise unchanged from the night we had met at Foppa’s. Trim, horsey, perfectly at ease with himself, and everyone around him, he managed at the same time to suggest the proximity of an abyss of scandal and bankruptcy threatening at any moment to engulf himself, and anyone else unfortunate enough to be within his immediate vicinity when the crash came. The charm he exercised over people was perhaps largely due to this ability to juggle with two contrasting, apparently contradictory attributes; the one, an underlying implication of sinister, disturbing undercurrents: the other, a soothing power to reassure and entertain. These incompatible elements were always to be felt warring with each other whenever he was present. He was like an actor who suddenly appears on the stage to the accompaniment of a roll of thunder, yet who utterly captivates his audience a second later, while their nerves are still on edge, by crooning a sentimental song.”


Anthony Powell, At Lady Molly’s

« 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 2025
M T W T F S S
 1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031  
« Jan    

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