80B

 

“80B” was the imaginative salutation of a homemade card from our friends, Art and Sydelle, to mark my 80^th birthday, an alphanumeric version of the short version of my name.  The card was rendered with an original water color drawn by Art.  Beautiful. 

 

I normally don’t obsess over milestone birthdays.  There was always a future in my mind.  When I was much younger, future and infinity seemed to be in a one-to-one correlation. 

 

Beginning an octogenarian decade comes with the knowledge that unlike other decades, there is a different feeling about the future as the body goes beyond its expiration date.  So, the point is to make each day count.  Writing has always been important to me and I’m now turning to something I hope to finish.  You might call it Volume Three of my “explaining” series, this one “Explaining It to Me.”  It will be a personal memoir of a not very extraordinary person.  Now, there’s a blurb for the book!  Nonetheless, as I said in my first volume, getting thoughts down, working, focusing, is an end in itself.  Satisfying.  I’ll even incorporate the short stories I’ve written, ones I always feel are unfinished as every time I open those, I make revisions.  In print I’ll have to call them finished.

 

Time, time, time is now the main issue.  A race to a finish line.  Perhaps that may mean my writing in this space will be more limited, and if a review of a play or a book, more truncated. 

 

Speaking of which, is it coincidental that over my birthday I happened to pick up a book I’ve had in my-to-be -read pile for some time, Louis Begley’s last novel, The New Life of Hugo Gardner?  I wrote extensively about Begley, the author of the Schmidt trilogy, in my November 2012entry, “Schmidtie.” 

Among other details, I pointed out that Begley was at a stage in life when he wrote those novels that was a little ahead of my own stage, and The New Life of Hugo Gardner seems to capture that again for me.  It is about the protagonist’s sense of a life well lived now in summation, a looking back, the outcomes of actions he either knowingly or by chance took in his life. He, as do I, is trying to retain a sense of control, living his remaining years on his terms.

 

Is this Begley’s final fictional statement?  Time will tell.  A brief summation without even naming characters explains why I ask that question.  Hugo Gardner concluded a career as a highly successful and influential journalist, assigned to the Paris office, happily married, two children.  Here he is in his 80s and is told he has prostate cancer and finds his wife has left him for a younger man.

 

His doctor wants to aggressively treat the condition.  Gardner instead prefers to watch and wait and if the waiting does not turn out well, take care of the business in Switzerland.  Like Schmitie, Gardner moves in wealthy, well connected society.  Ultimately we all have these existential dilemmas in common.

 

He is estranged from his daughter and uses his son as a go between in trying to understand his daughter, but they are not close as well.  He also has an ex-lover in Paris, and they get together again, Gardner thinking that there is a possibility of a long term relationship.  But the lover is caring for her invalid husband and wants Gardner simply nearby as a companion and occasional lover.  That has its starts and stops until the boom is lowered by her that she has reconciled with another, younger love, leaving Gardner in a state of limbo, mostly alienated from his family, and having to contend alone with his prostate decision.

 

He explains his big decision to refuse radiation to his long-time Doctor.  As Begley is prone to do, his dialogue does not carry quotation marks.  It works well in his narrative.  And his writing is precise, befitting Begley’s former profession as an attorney:

 

You have explained it all very clearly, I said, and I’m very grateful, but I really don’t want to do the radiation. Your cure may turn out to be a prelude to other illnesses and new dilemmas. Let’s roll the dice. We both know how it will end whatever we do – in exactly the same place.

 

Excuse me, Hugo, but this is nihilistic crap. Why don’t you say straight out that you were tired of life and want to commit suicide?

 

I could have shaken my head thank him and gone home but I felt the need to explain myself. I really didn’t want him to think I was nuts and lacking in respect.

 

Because that’s simply not true, I replied. Please don’t feel concerned. I’m not tired of life. I love life even though I’m lonely and often unhappy. But I want to live on my own terms. That means being capable of making my own decisions, of moving around without a walker or wheelchair. I’m accustomed to chronic pain in my lower back and the aches and pains in this and other joints that come and go but I wouldn’t want to live with great pain. Doesn’t that make sense to you?

 

He didn’t bother to answer.

 

Knowing I might have a similar discussion in my future makes this novel especially poignant.  So does the fact that I share many of the writer’s feelings.  Gardner not only has a NYC apartment, but a home close to Sag Harbor, another of my favorite places from my past, and after seeing his Doctor, he calls his housekeeper there and says get ready, I’m returning.  As fate would have it a younger (female) cousin lives nearby, now a widow, also remote from her children, and they’ve always had a fond relationship and I’ll leave it at that without revealing the denouement. 

 

If this is indeed Begley’s final fictional statement (he turns 90 later this year), it is a fine, thoughtful, perhaps cathartic work, and certainly, for me, relevant and moving.

 

‘If Only In My Dreams’ Redux

 

A few years ago I wrote one of my most heartfelt entries about Christmas.  I am not a religious person, but one does not experience a lifetime of Christmases and not be moved by its mere secular presence.  My feelings about the holiday have not changed and therefore I am copying that piece without the photographs it contained, and but embedding the performances of all four songs mentioned, my favorites of the holiday season. 

 

 If Only In My Dreams

 

And so the classic song "I'll Be Home For Christmas" ends with that memorable line “if only in my dreams.”

 

And that is sort of the way I feel at this stage of my life.  Christmases are now dreams of the past, anticipating the holiday as a child and then the pleasures Ann and I had in creating memorable holiday moments for our children as they grew up.  The classic song itself is particularly evocative of the distant past popularized by Bing Crosby and so many others, first recorded at the peak of WW II.

 

Undoubtedly it was played frequently by my mother and my grandparents with whom we lived while my father was in Germany at the conclusion of the War, wanting to get home, but he was part of the occupying force and didn’t make it home until right after Christmas 1945.  "I'll Be Home For Christmas" is probably implanted in the recesses in my mind as every time I hear it I feel a sudden melancholy.

 

When my father came home he brought a wooden replica of the Jeep he drove in Germany for me.  I don’t remember his return, or getting the Jeep, but somehow that 70 year old Jeep has accompanied me wherever I lived.  Sometimes when I look at it, I can hear "I'll Be Home For Christmas."

 

In some past blog entries I’ve posted videos of other Christmas songs I like to play, in particular the following:  “It's Love -- It's Christmas,”  a seldom performed Christmas song, written by none other than the great jazz pianist Bill Evans. And, then, “Christmas Time Is Here” is by Vince Guaraldi, a great jazz musician too but his music will always be associated with the Peanuts Christmas specials.

 

Finally, there is “Christmas Lullaby,” probably the most unknown Christmas song. It was written for Cary Grant by none other than Peggy Lee (Lyrics) and Cy Coleman (Music). It is the simplest of tunes and lyrics but therein is its beauty.

 

So, on the eve of this Christmas I post my piano rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” with fond memories of my Dad and Christmases past .

 

 

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

 

 

It's Love -- It's Christmas

 

 

 

Christmas Time Is Here

 

 

 

Christmas Lullaby

 

 

A Must-See Rendition of the Timeless ‘Twelve Angry Men’ at Palm Beach Dramaworks

 

 

This is one of the finest productions in Dramawork’s long history of excellent offerings.  Here is a true ensemble effort, a PBD reunion of a group of the finest male actors who have graced their stage over the years.  Maybe it’s the times, or the intensity of this play with it’s realistic, fast paced dialogue, or the size and brilliance of the cast playing off one another, or the inspired direction, but the gestalt is a passionate, stunning production, which would hold up to accolades on Broadway.  It is an emphatic statement that live theatre is back.

 

 Seen against our present time when democracy itself has been under siege, this production takes flight with new meaning and relevancy, perhaps even more relevant today than when it was written by Reginald Rose as a teleplay in 1954, then adapted for the stage, and ultimately becoming the well known 1957 film. 

 

As a courtroom drama 12 Angry Men is unique as it does not take place in the courtroom, it unfolds during the deliberations of the jury, the courtroom details becoming clearer to the audience through the eyes of the 12 men charged with the responsibility of possibly condemning a 16 year old boy to death for the accused killing of his father.  The lapidary character performances by this all star cast exposes the jurors’ personality traits and deep held prejudices in this gripping nearly two hour performance. 

 

A jury is supposed to be composed of one’s peers, but the all white, male jury of the play was Rose’s statement that the jury pools of NYC in the 1950’s were typically not gender or racially inclusive.  This production again raises the issue whether an accused today can receive a trial by an impartial jury of one’s peers.  Although today we have greater inclusiveness there is now heightened political divisiveness.

 

As the house lights go down we see the empty, neglected courtroom and then hear a steady one note drone musical tone and the off stage judge ominously charging the jury: “I urge you to deliberate honestly and thoughtfully. If there is a reasonable doubt—then you must bring me a verdict of not guilty. If, however, there is no reasonable doubt—then you must, in good conscience, find the accused guilty.”--Then as the door to the jury room is opened by the guard, played by Cliff Goulet, the jurors file in from the courtroom. 

 

At first, just informal chatter as they find seats, and then the first show of hands reflect an initial rush to judgement.  The jurors have other things to do and as the defendant is “one of those people,” he’s probably guilty.  But it takes just one stalwart level-headed juror, the play’s protagonist, #8, faultlessly played by Tom Wahl who stands alone not rushing to judgement, embracing his character’s profound responsibility, assimilating what the Judge dispassionately said offstage.

 

Tom Wahl (#8), William Hayes (#3) Photo by Tim Stepien

 

He is the fulcrum ultimately bringing all the other jurors into his orbit of questioning a guilty verdict with “reasonable doubt” hanging in the stale hot air of the jury room.  Wahl’s performance is driven by his character’s patience and sense of impartiality. 

 

The Foreman, Juror #1 played by Tim Altmeyer, struggles to keep peace in the jury room while trying to count and recount votes, finally angrily (everyone gets his turn  to turn to anger) throwing down the gauntlet challenging someone else to take his place as Foreman.

 

A formidable antagonist to #8 is Juror #10, portrayed by an explosive Rob Donohoe.  He delivers a powerhouse performance displaying his inbred racial prejudices with increasing ferocity throughout the play. At first he is just perplexed that Juror #8 is the only one voting not guilty in the initial round  exclaiming, “Boy oh boy! There’s always one!”  (The irony is not lost on the audience that it takes only one.)  Nonetheless his other antics bring needed humor into the jury room.

 

Rob Donohoe (#10),Tim Altmeyer (#1) Photo by Tim Stepien

Wahl (#8) has another implacable opponent, Juror #3 who has a sad back story of estrangement from his son.  This challenging part is played by the Producing Artistic Director of PBD, William Hayes, his first time on stage in almost 20 years.  What must that have been like returning to his roots as an actor?  Hayes demonstrates he still has the right stuff to perform the strong-willed, one track minded juror who again and again swears he can never be convinced of the defendant’s innocence.  He is a bully and his personal history drives his thinking.  Hayes seethes, consumed by his belief in the boy’s guilt, pitiable in his final capitulation.

 

John Leonard Thompson deftly plays the impatient, wise-cracking and opinionated Juror #7.  His attitude could be summed up ‘Guilty, I got a ball game to get to! The whole deal is a waste of time!’  This contrasts to the 11^th Juror, a European refuge played by David Kwiat with dignity.  It is #11 who later ironically (as an immigrant) reminds his fellow jurors of their sacred responsibility, derived from the Constitution.

 

David Kwiat (#11), Jim Ballard (#5), John Leonard Thompson (#7) Photo by Tim Stepien

 

Dennis Creaghan (# 9) does not say much at first, astutely playing the elder statesman, one who notices things and brings the wisdom of his years to the jury room.  Those observations are also a form of introspection as he heartrendingly comments on one of the elderly witnesses: “Nobody knows him, nobody quotes him, nobody seeks his advice after seventy-five years. That’s a very sad thing, to be nothing. A man like this needs to be recognized, to be listened to, to be quoted just once.”  His brand of wisdom comes in conflict with the robotic rationality of Juror #4, Gary Cadwallader who meticulously portrays a man of wealth, someone who thinks he sees things clearly.  His is yet another pivotal role played with great skill.

 

David Kwiat (#11), Rob Donohoe (#10), William Hayes (#3), Gary Cadwallader (#4), Jim Ballard (#5) Photo by Tim Stepien

 

Even the more minor parts have critical roles in the slow sway from guilty to not guilty.  Michael McKeever (#2) is a timid man whose opinion is easily impacted by the others, but is always adeptly in character as is Jim Ballard (#5) who hangs back for a while and finally comes forth with insight into the likely use of a switch blade knife, having come from the slums himself, which influences others in the group.  

 

Matthew W. Korinko (#6) carefully listens to his fellow jurors, but provides no particular insight, yet is among the first to change his vote and to defend other jurors who are verbally or even physically threatened.  Bruce Linser (#12) convincingly plays a supercilious advertising executive, imbued with his self importance but who will easily follow others’ lead.  Yet, it’s a key role as his vote waivers back and forth, almost a stand-in for the audience.  After all, as Juror #8 himself often infers, the conjectures being made are not necessarily “true” and it’s even possible they will be setting a murderer free, but the evidence doesn’t “seem” to rise beyond a reasonable doubt.

 

The fast paced action, highly influenced by the range of the characters’ personalities, exposes truths about them that quickly become more central than the details of the case itself.  Step by step they go from only one “not guilty” to the necessary unanimous not guilty as inbred prejudices, obduracy, and uncertainty yield to reason or merely exhaustion. 

 

J. Barry Lewis superbly directs this production and takes his queues for orchestrating the action from the text of the play, sometimes flowing onto sidebars between certain jurors while the others are not involved.  He finely tunes the performances so all the jurors stay in character – even when not speaking – body language and looks revealing inner personas, also capitalizing on what humor there is in the play for relief.  Mainly though, he draws the audience into this self contained bubble of a courtroom, on the hottest day in August, with the rising temperature and emotions visibly palpable. 

 

There are physical threats and confrontations which almost lead to violence as the play intensifies and Lewis, with the help of David A. Hyland, the Fight Choreographer, makes the most of impending physical confrontations and a few frightening moments in which a switch blade knife is ominously brandished.  All this takes place in real time, a working clock hanging on the wall, and although the jurors make reference to time, to the audience it flies by.

 

 

Scenic design is by Victor A. Becker who has created a metaphor for the justice system.  The courtroom is tired, one of the “12” overhead lights is out, the chairs don’t match, the floor is worn.  There are three large double hung windows outside of which one can see the Woolworth Building and other buildings of that time in seemingly 3 dimensional distant relief against an angry sky.  It is the ideal pressure cooker into which the jurors’ (and our focus) are locked.

 

Kirk Bookman’s lighting design has a realistic cutting edge lights on the Jurors, trapped in their deliberations while side lights and lightening beyond the windows illuminate the rain storm which falls during most of the 2^nd half of the play.

 

Costume design is by the always artistic and inventive Brian O’Keefe, and although there are no costume changes there are 12 distinctive attires, mostly suit jackets and ties being removed as the play unfolds and the heat continues to build, sleeves rolled up.  Little details, like who should wear wedding rings and hair styles were determined by each character.

 

Sound design is by Roger Arnold focused on hidden mikes for the actors who sometimes have their backs to the audience when occasionally sitting more formally around the table (although even then, Lewis has them sit at slight angles for audience viewing).  “Music” is a monolithic drone tone at the beginning which reprises slightly differently at the conclusion.  During the very few quiet moments in the jury room some NYC sounds can be heard as well as ominous thunder as the storm hits outside and windows are hastily closed.

 

Towards the plays denouement, we are reminded about how little things change.  Near exhaustion Rob Donohoe (#10) delivers what could pass as “today’s news” about “replacement theory,” saying ”Don’t look at me like that! There’s a danger. For God’s sake, we’re living in a dangerous time, and if we don’t watch it, if we don’t smack them down whenever we can, then they are gonna own us. They’re gonna breed us out of existence.”  Absolutely chilling lines delivered by Donohoe with fervor, after which he retires to a chair exhausted, a sweaty mess.  It takes Tom Wahl’s character (#8) to break the tension, compassionately saying “It’s very hard to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And no matter where you run into it, prejudice obscures the truth. “

 

How prescient this play was and still is, brilliant in its conception and presentation by one of the leading regional theatre companies in America.  It should not be missed.

Cast with Director and son of playwright (front center)