The Shapiro Files

Melody Makes a Movie!

2009-05-31T22:10:00.000-07:00

My 3-year-old daughter Melody has become very used to the sight of her mother in our home office working on video projects for her business Life Visions Productions. So it shouldn't have surprised that one day seemingly out of the blue she said to me, "I want to make a movie like Mommy." My response: "Sure, we could do that." Over the course of the day following that exchange, Melody began to outline the story of a young princess kidnapped by a grumpy wizard.

With the certainty you can only find in little kids (well, I suppose politicians as well), Melody declared that Julianne (our 2-year-old) would play the princess in peril, Marcie would play the Mommy Fairy, I would play the Grumpy Wizard ("because only boys can be grumpy wizards" she explained), and she would be the heroine, Fairy Melody.

We shot the little movie in short bursts of fast and furious activity over a couple of days. You have to work very fast with kids as young as mine because they lose interest quickly. In fact, even at that frantic pace, we lost Julianne after just one scene. Once we completed the forest sequence that opens the movie, she didn't want to have anything more to do with the project. So I did the best I could to edit around her absence. After my final edit was done, it still wasn't good enough for Melody and we ended up doing some re-shoots a week later. It turns out she's already a better filmmaker than me because the new ending is much better!

And now, without further ado, here it is:

Here's a direct link to the video on YouTube, where you can see it at a larger size and even in near-HD if your Internet connection and computing speed supports it.

By the way, be sure to keep watching after the closing credits. I put together a montage of silly dancing and funny outtakes in the spirit of closing title sequences in movies like Something About Mary and Cannonball Run.

Oh, and on a final note, we showed a rough cut of the movie to Marcie's local cousins last week. They enjoyed it so much that my two oldest nieces, Jianna and Kaylie, asked me to help them make a movie of their own with a plot that's pretty much exactly the same as Melody's. So if that all comes together, you can look forward to another video addition to The Shapiro Files.

New Photo Albums Now Online

2009-05-28T00:25:00.000-07:00

I'm pleased to announce that our latest collection of photo albums are now posted to my website:

Melody & Julianne: October - December 2008
Shapiro Family Holiday Visit: December 2008
Melody & Julianne: January - March 2009

These albums cover all the autumn/winter holidays, Julianne's 2nd birthday, Melody's activities at school (including my very brief return to stage acting), and a whole lot more.

Plus, don't forget to check out my photo album collection page to view all of the albums I've posted over the past number of years (including some pre-kids theater albums).

January 2009: The kids showing off their matching winter couture

Live Theater, Real-Time Disasters

2009-05-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

A theater friend of mine recently posted a fun blog entry about how mistakes during a live performance can actually enhance the experience of seeing a show. It reminds the audience that something real is happening right in front of them, something that everyone is participating in--audience and cast alike.

While I've experienced my share of mishaps on stage, my time as a music director and pit musician was especially full of such unexpected challenges that could only happen in live theater. For example, there was the time when the nearly 50-pound digital piano I was playing slipped off its stand and ended up in my lap while I was simultaneously playing and conducting. The audience that night got to enjoy a rather surprising "cluster chord" noise coming out of the pit and a momentarily missing 1st trumpet, who left his station to rescue me.

Then there was the time I was conducting Secret Garden in Boston and during one of the quietest, most emotional moments, my second keyboardist accidentally hit the wrong button on his control panel and a Techno beat came blaring out of his amp. I could barely make it through the rest of the act due to my uncontrollable (albeit pit-appropriate-quiet) laughing.

Another favorite memory was when I doing a performance of JC Superstar in Davis and the music director/drummer/producer (ya gotta love community theater) had to deal with a mid-show technical issue and wasn't able to make it back to the pit before the next number, which happened to be in the rather unusual 7/8 time signature. Just as we were about to start the song sans-drums, much to my surprise, one of the actors suddenly appeared behind the drum kit and played the whole song in 4/4.

And finally, I should probably share at least one acting-related story. During a performance of Last Night of Ballyhoo, I was in the dressing room when fellow cast member Anne burst in with a look of panic on her face and declared, "They're ad-libbing!" She was referring to the actors on stage who had resorted to making up lines because someone was late on their entrance. I told Anne that I thought perhaps she was the one who was late. After a beat, she bolted out of the dressing room.

Moments like these remind me why there's nothing quite like live theater.

Another Sign of the End of Times

2009-04-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

Has there been a more misguided and tonally wrong ad campaign than this?

While I do give Starbucks credit for helping to raise the level of sophistication of the average American coffee drinker, its fatal flaw has never been the price of its coffee: it's the poor quality of that coffee! Because Starbucks' bean selection and brewing process has never been even close to real coffee houses like Peets, they've effectively trained their customers to chose more caloric and sugar-filled items on their menu--drinks that indeed are more pricey than plain coffee. But in these tough economic times, such drinks are perceived as luxury items, meaning customers are likely to revert to plain old coffee. However, Starbuck's lousy coffee leaves these customers no other alternative in their stores and the result is a loss of business. Thus, I find it more than just a little ironic that the main argument (a defensive one at that) of the new campaign is that their presumed superior coffee is worth paying a little extra for.

So just how off the mark is this new campaign? Look no further than this video of Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz speaking to a group of painfully stilted employees acting as though there are actually people who have never heard of a Starbucks before.

Ghost of School Days Past

2009-04-03T19:09:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've recently been on quite the nostalgia trip as a result of many Facebook reunions with grade school friends. For about a week, I felt I was living in two realities: the world of an eight-year-old and my present "grown up" existence.

It's been quite a trip.

As part of this virtual reunion, a number of us have been scanning/posting old photos from our collections and the subsequent exchange of comments have been so much fun to participate in--not to mention downright addictive. At least a few of us have stayed up way too late reading/posting at the expense of our regular daytime capabilities. One of the photos that's caused a particularly spirited exchange was of our fifth grade class photo. Fifth grade was, by far, my least favorite elementary school year for two key reasons: one, my best friend Todd had moved away the previous summer and two, Mrs. Ferguson.

Mrs. Ferguson stands out in my memory as easily the worst teacher I've ever had. Entirely out of touch with the needs and sensibility of her students, her approach to her pupils was comparable to a germaphobe at a leper colony. Her every utterance and every gesture conveyed her undisguised disgust with us. And we weren't particularly bad kids. She just made us feel that way. The result: we became what she assumed we were.

This sort of self-fulfilling prophesy was a common topic among the materials I studied years later while pursuing my teaching credential at UC Davis. I especially remember a research study in which a teacher was told that one of her classes was an honors/gifted class and the other, a standard-level class. But in reality, they were both the same "average" class. Guess which class ended up achieving higher test results at the year's end? You guessed it: the class the teacher thought was the honors class.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Ferguson's expectation was that her students would consistently miss the mark. Naturally, that's exactly what we started to do. A perfect illustration of this comes by way of long-time friend Tammie:

"I believe Mrs. Ferguson was responsible for giving me low self esteem. I had never gotten a bad grade until her class. She really made me feel dumb. After that my grades in middle school were awful. It wasn't until my senior year in high school that my grades improved. I realized at some point that there was some hope for me and completed college with honors. She was a horrible teacher who knew nothing about children. I will never understand how or why she choose to become a teacher. She should have been a prison guard."

Tammie is lucky that she was able to ultimately repair the damage that Mrs. Ferguson did and succeed later in her school career.

Here's a similar tale as told by grade school friend Stephanie:

"I remember one incident in particular when she threatened me and then chased me around the classroom. So as I ran by a chair I pulled it out in back of me to stop her from catching me and she told Mr. Anderson, our Principal, that I threw a chair at her!"

I was there when this happened and I still remember it. It was all pretty shocking. Stephanie was definitely not anyone's definition of a bad student and always a very nice person (still is!) and the fact that she was in that situation was really just hard to believe. And of course, Mrs. Ferguson's embellishment of the facts makes this whole situation downright Kafka-eque.

There are lots more stories like this, but I thought I'd share one of my own. This really isn't as bad as either of the above, but I still feel a sense of injustice when I think about it.

In addition to music, I used to love to write stories and draw pictures. So it's not surprising that I thought I'd combine those two interests and compose what today people might call a graphic novel (a comic book/novel hybrid). I don't remember much about what it was about, but it I know it was a space opera of sorts and was probably a major Star Wars rip-off.

Because we had a combined grade class (grades five and six), we had lots of gaps in each day's activities when Mrs. Fergusen would be teaching the other students and we'd simply have to do some busy work. As a result, I had lots of free time during the day to work on my story. One day, I had my story-in-progress on my desk and I had to get up to sharpen my pencil. When I got back to my desk, my story was gone. I asked the classmate who sat next to me if he knew what happened to it and he explained that Mrs. Fergusen took the entire stack of papers (it had grown to a respectable volume by that time) and threw it all away.

Despite the embarrassment of having to dig inside a trash can in front of my peers, I retrieved the papers and stormed up to Mrs. Fergusen and asked why she did that. Her reply was something to the effect of, "Because you were using school supplies." She further went on to explain that doing something like this was inappropriate and not something to be done in the classroom.

Being so young and fairly inarticulate in such situations, I really couldn't bring myself to generate a meaningful reply. However, I was absolutely shocked that a teacher, someone who should value positive creative expression, would actually discourage me from engaging from such pursuits--especially since it didn't have any negative impact on my schoolwork. Even at that age, I knew this was a horribly misguided value system from a person who clearly should have nothing to do with young people. But even if I give her the benefit of the doubt and acknowledge the gray area of using school supplies for personal creative pursuits, the fact that the handled this by throwing away my work with nary a word of explanation is completely unforgivable.

Years later as I trained to be a teacher myself, I kept thinking back to that incident with Mrs. Fergusen and how incredibly damaging such an act was. She was essentially telling me that creativity and artistic expression has no place in school. What I wouldn't have given for more students who had such creative impulses in my classes! This is exactly the type of thing a good teacher is supposed to encourage and foster in their students. Why would she discourage this? So I could instead goof around with my classmates while waiting for our next lesson?

Absolutely incredible. 30 years later, this still gets my ire up. Great teachers can make an amazing positive impact on the lives of their pupils. But opposite is also true: bad teachers can cause irreparable harm.

As for me, the whole incident made me so upset that I abandoned my graphic novel project and eventually threw the whole thing away myself in disgust. I've never attempted a project like that again, but at least never gave up writing. Like Tammie, I'm lucky that I was able to pull myself out of that self-defeating hole Mrs. Fergusen buried me in. But I bet that all of us in that class still carry at least a little piece of that emotional damage in our collective psyche to this day. After all, the fact I'm writing about this now after so many years must say something in and of itself.

Who knew nostalgia would have such a dark side.

Catching Up with Old Friends

2009-03-26T23:26:00.000-07:00

Through the magic of Facebook, I've been getting in touch with people going all the way back to my elementary school days. It's been such a nostalgia trip.

With all this reconnecting, I realized some people might be finding their way to this blog for the first time. So to those of you new here, welcome!

For those of you seeing these postings republished as "Notes" on my Facebook page, here's a direct link to the actual blog. I usually post a new entry once or twice a week. So I hope you'll keep coming back!

And for those of you curious what I've been doing these past 30 years, this tongue-in-cheek encapsulation of my life will help you get caught up. For anyone interested in my theatrical endeavors, you might enjoy this page. And finally, I have hundreds of photos from the past several years posted here.

Please leave comments, send messages, or post to my Facebook wall to keep in touch. It has been so much fun hearing from all of you!

Mysterious Noise (Me and My Imagination)

2009-03-24T21:42:00.000-07:00

For several months--possibly years--there has been an engine revving noise disrupting my otherwise very quiet neighborhood on a regular basis. Marcie and I usually notice the sound in the early evening around 7pm and then again later in the night around 10-11pm. Each occurrence typically lasts between 5 and 10 minutes.

Like so many random outdoor noises in our post-industrial world (airplanes, sirens, robot rebellions ....OK, maybe not that one...yet), the sound of a revving engine isn't something I'd necessarily pay much attention to. However, the loudness and regularity of the noise has resulted in it becoming impossible to ignore. And once you become consciously aware of an annoyance like this, it's hard not to let it get to you after a while.

Still, we've had absolutely no idea where the sound was coming from and what was causing it. With nothing to go on, I decided to let my imagination run wild.

One of my more elaborate postulations was that there was some sort of domestic drama being played out in my neighborhood. This invented scenario involved a teenage girl being raise by ultra-strict parents that forbid her to date. But despite her parents' best intentions, she meets and falls in love with a James Dean rebel type who skips class, frequently drops the "f-bomb" in mixed company, and rides a motorcycle. Each night around 7pm, the girl sneaks out of her bedroom window to meet up with her rough-around-the-edges beau. In contrast to her furtive exit from her home, he stridently sits atop his running motorcycle right in front of the house, revving his engine in reckless abandon (thus the noise). But as is often the case in these tales, looks can be deceiving. The boyfriend is really just a sensitive and misunderstood guy who has had some tough breaks growing up. He's surprisingly thoughtful and is always mindful to bring the girl home by 11 each night (thus the second round of engine noise) so she can get enough sleep for school the next day. Ah, young love.

OK so maybe that one is a little over the top.

Another scenario I invented involved a disgruntled auto mechanic who was stealing customers away from his employer and secretly servicing their cars in his garage at night. But perhaps he had some reason to stick to the strictest of schedules--so much so, that he would only do engine work for 10 minutes at a time, once at 7pm and once again between 10 and 11.

But alas, neither of these scenarios proved to be the real reason for the noise. Rather, as is often the case, reality is simultaneously more prosaic and weirder than imagination.

A few nights ago around 7pm, Marcie and I were in the kids' room getting them ready for bedtime when once again, that pesky revving engine noise starting doing its thing. I looked outside the window and noticed someone parallel parking a small white car. I didn't think much of it and returned to the family. After all, a car that small couldn't possibly make that much noise, could it? Still, the noise lingered and I kept breaking away from our kiddie nighttime ritual to peak out the window to see if I could find the source of that sound. But again, all I saw was that little white car parallel parking. All at once, the noise stopped and I noticed that the taillights of the car turned off moments later. A coincidence?

I re-engaged with the kiddies, but the noise started up once again shortly thereafter. Returning once more to the window, I noticed that the white car's driver had resumed parallel parking. It was at this point that I began thinking that perhaps it really was that small car making that sound. But how? Maybe the muffler fell off? Perhaps its owner souped up the engine to be more like a race car? I couldn't quite figure this out, but then something more obvious hit me: Holy moly, this person has been parallel parking their car in the same spot for at least 5 minutes! How long does it take for someone to park a car?

The noise ceased yet again and the car's taillights turned off. Ah ha! It really is that little white car. But what a strange combination of things: an innocuous compact car with a big engine noise, plus a driver who needs a minimum of 5 minutes to park!

At last the driver emerged. She walked to the back of her car, looked at the rear tires and at the car parked behind her, and then...gets back in the car to resume parallel parking!

It seems that we have someone on our street who has some sort of abnormally loud car engine and some serious OCD (either that, or she's just impossibly bad at parking). Either way, it's all pretty odd.

I kept watching (can you blame me?) and saw that the driver finally was satisfied with her parking. She then walked up the street and opened the door of a different car and got in. She quickly started it up and drove away.

Very mysterious.

I'm guessing that the person has some sort of arrangement where she drives one car at a certain time of day and then drops it off and picks up a different car around 7pm. Perhaps she has a car sharing arrangement with a friend or her husband/ex-husband? Or maybe she drives one car during the day and then another car for a night job that ends around 11pm? Hmmm.... The possibilities are endless.

By the way, her little white car was still parked on the curb the following morning. So I had a chance to look at it up close and learned that it's an older VW Jetta (one of those mid-to-late 80s box-like models). Not exactly a car you'd want to turn into a race car. So maybe I was right about the muffler?

So many questions, so little answers.

On Filmstrips and Inherited Personality

2009-03-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

Anyone my age will recall that before DVDs, Powerpoint presentations, and even VCR players, teachers had two multimedia options for classroom usage: movie projectors and filmstrips. If your grade school experiences were anything like mine, movie viewing was a very rare event that usually involved a beleaguered teacher schlepping a classroom of giddy children to the cafeteria/auditorium hybrid affectionately known as the cafetorium to be treated to aging scratch-filled short films on topics as diverse as the Gray Whale and the Dewey Decimal System.

But if a teacher wanted to stay within the four walls of their own classroom, their only option was using a filmstrip-based audio/projector system. If you're younger than me and have no idea what I'm talking about, the following excerpts from this Wikipedia entry should get you up to speed:

The filmstrip was a spooled strip of 35 mm positive film with approximately 30-50 images arranged sequentially. Typically a filmstrip's running time was between 10 and 20 minutes. Depending on how they were narrated or produced, filmstrips (which often came with an Instructor's Guide) were flexible enough to be used in both self-paced learning formats or in a full classroom.

The instructor would turn on a film projector that would show the first frame (image) of the filmstrip. The instructor then turned on a 33 RPM record or cassette tape containing the audio material for the filmstrip, which included narration. At the appropriate point, a tone would sound, signaling the instructor (or a student volunteer) to turn a knob, advancing to the next frame.

So why this sudden burst of nostalgia for yet another technical marvel that has been lost to the ravages of time? Well, it just occurred to me that there's a connection between my filmstrip memories and my daughter Melody's unique personality characteristics.

Let me explain.

From the day Melody was born, I have always felt that there is something something unmistakably familiar about her--more than just the fact that she has taken on some of my physical traits. In fact, the very first thought I had when I saw her for the first time was, "I know her."

As Melody transitioned from baby to a full-fledged human being, I've come to realized that her personality has come to eerily resemble mine as a child. I was always a little out of step with my peers, had a tendency toward self-reflexivity at an unusually early age, and was even frequently melancholy. I had an excellent attention span and could focus on a single book or activity for extended periods of time. I wasn't always all that verbally articulate, but was an active listener and understood more than people (adults especially) probably realized. At the same time, I adored silly things that made me laugh--especially made-up words and funny songs.

I see all these things in Melody. She definitely marches to her own drum. It just happens to be a drum that's remarkably similar to one of my childhood.

I also had one other distinct quirk that is also very prominent in Melody: I was extremely particular (read: anal) and regrettably, still am. Everything had to be "just so." For example, we had a routine in my Kindergarten class in which every child had to provide one pack of cookies as a part of a school-sanctioned cookie snacktime activity (this was the 70s after all). When you brought in your contribution, the teacher would place it at the bottom of a large stack of cookie packages. She would then draw each day's selections from the top of the stack so we'd go through the cookie packs in the order in which they came. Just the fact that I still remember this exact cookie dissemination system probably says something about the kind of kid I was.

For each cookie time activity, the teacher would select three packages and everyone in the class would get one cookie from each pack. I was very methodical about how I ate my cookies. I spent a fair amount of time assessing the characteristics of each cookie and determining a ranking of the three cookies--from least desirable to most.

You see, I noticed that most of my classmates immediately attacked their favorite cookie and then had to trudge through the remaining cookies with less enthusiasm. So I always made a point of eating my cookies in the reverse order--saving the best one for last. I actually remember getting grief from my classmates for eating the "yucky" cookie first. This always bothered me because I felt they weren't comprehending that I had a nobler, more long-term goal in mind--namely, by the time they had reached their third and most decidedly "yucky" cookie, I was very slowly savoring the most desirable cookie. Why my classmates never admitted the superiority of my approach is beyond me. But what's even more important here is that I had a very clear plan of attack when it came to cookie time. I followed it to letter every time and I never deviated from it--even when it subjected me to the ridicule of others.

I was just as particular during my filmstrip viewing experiences.

The teachers I had almost never controlled the filmstrip machine themselves, instead electing to select a student volunteer to do the honors. I always raised my hand when they asked for volunteers but was only selected once in all those years. Go figure.

So instead of being given the opportunity to provide the class with a professional, seamless filmstrip experience, I had to deal with some lame classmate who inevitably missed a cue even though the filmstrip-advancing tone on the audio tape was clear as can be! This drove me absolutely crazy. I could not stand my filmstrip being out of sync with the narration. Without exception, I was always dissatisfied by those who operated the filmstrip machine and vowed that I would be the most perfect filmstrip operator known to humankind...if only the teacher would have the wisdom to select me for once!

It still makes my blood boil.

So this is what I think about when I think about filmstrips. Not their quaintness or they're education/entertainment value. Nope, I think about the incompetence of those who couldn't performing the simple task of turning a knob every time you hear a beep. I mean, how is that difficult? Beep, turn. Beep, turn. Grrrr...

In all events, this leads back to Melody. Like me as a child, she can be quite angst-ridden at times. Just the simplest things make her crazy. If she's lining up toys in a very particular way and accidentally bumps one piece out of place, or--horror of horrors--Julianne comes by and takes a piece away, we know we're in for a firestorm.

Or if we're sitting on the couch, she has to be to the left of Julianne, not to the right. She's usually agreeable to my sitting between the two of them, but if I sit to her left and thus cause her to effectively be in the middle, she won't have it.

We see the same behaviors when it comes to her washing her hands, putting on clothes, how high the zipper can go on her jackets, and on and on.

Naturally, being your typically involved parents, Marcie and I frequently worry that there's something of a disturbingly problematic nature behind this excessive anal and anxious behavior. It's only natural.

But then, I think about all the years of frustration filmstrips in school cased me and I realize that more than anything else, Melody's anxiety is most likely the result of an unfortunate collection of genes she has inherited. The types of things that drive her to such extremes of unhappiness seem far too familiar to me to be a coincidence. Oh, and did I mention that Marcie was a decidedly "Type A" child herself? You put us together and you get one very particular, anxiety-ridden child.

Don't get me wrong. I still think that Melody and Julianne are the two greatest human beings in the history of the universe. But I also suspect that for better or worse, Melody is in for years of quizzical looks and misunderstanding by others, hyper-self-awareness and unexplainable sentimentality, and most of all, frustration with the shortcomings of her peers. But at least she has something I never had: someone (me) who knows exactly where she's coming from. She might be wired up a little differently than others, but at least it's a schema I share and even understand.

Netflix Wrap-Up #20

2009-03-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

Previous installments: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, #15, #16, #17, #18, #19

As promised in my previous Netflix wrap-up, here's part two of my Netflix DVD review backlog. Here we go...

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007) - An incredible true story of Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby, who experiences an entirely debilitating stroke and has to learn to communicate through the only part of his body with which he still has control: his eyelid. Thus, the story that unfolds is one he managed to tell solely through blinking. It's a very moving story of dedication and humility from someone who wasn't necessarily the nicest guy prior to his accident. In fact, what I really admire about this film is that Bauby can still be a bit of a jerk even in his mostly helpless state. That's more honesty than you'd normal ever get in a film like this and probably why it could have only come from someplace outside of Hollywood. My Netflix rating: 5 stars

English Promises (2007) - Another great David Cronenberg genre film that transcends the genre's usual trappings. I love the ambiguity of these characters and the fun way the plot tends to twist and turn along the way. In other hands, this probably would have been just a merely entertaining thriller, but in the hands of Cronenberg, the great Viggo Mortensen, and always-excellent Naomi Watts, the result is something that is both gripping and not without some psychological depth. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

The Orphanage (2007) - I love horror movies and will always seek out those films that people declare genuinely horrifying. This was one of those movies that I've heard repeatedly would keep me up at night. So with so much build up, I suppose I couldn't have been anything but a little dissapointed. While there was one genuinely creepy sequence involving a "One, two, three, who's knocking?" child's game, I was surprised at how predictable and un-scary the rest of the film was. Still, I can recommend this film to fans of the genre. I'm just not going to make any promises on its degree of scariness. My Netflix rating: 3 stars

Clerks 2 (2006) - Is it just me, or does nothing live up to its promise? The Orphanage promised to be terrifying and it wasn't. The Science of Sleep promised to be a deeply involving artistic exploration and it was merely skin deep. And now with Clerks 2, I was expecting a film that would cause debilitating laughter. Instead I found myself merely chuckling. For the record, I love the original Clerks. I revel in its crude-but-clever dialogue and do-it-yourself low-budget aesthetic. But Clerks 2 is largely a recycling of what made the original film so special. There are certainly a number of funny set pieces (especially the Lord of the Rings versus Star Wars debate), but it's all a little empty. Most problematic was a third act attempt at pathos that comes across as forced. I'm not panning this film, as I'll take Kevin Smith dialogue almost any day over that of most other filmmakers. I still think Smith has lots to offer as a filmmaker and it's very possible that his best work is yet to come. I was simply disappointed with this one. My Netflix rating: 3 stars

There Will Be Blood (2007) - You have to give director P.T. Andersen credit for his ambition. It takes a very special filmmaker to take something like Boogie Nights, a film about the adult film industry in the 70s and 80s, and raise it up to the level of a Shakespearian tragedy while remaining consistently entertaining and endlessly re-watchable. I have similar love for Magnolia, a film that wasn't as much of a critical slam-dunk as Boogie Nights, but which I think is no less impressive and captivating. So I'm not surprised that I was similarly impressed with There Will Be Blood--if not nearly as moved--as with Andersen's previous films. This story of an oil tycoon is really the story of America, with all its greed, ambition, and ugliness. It's a huge subject to tackle and I think Andersen mostly succeeds. My biggest complaints about the film are Daniel Day-Lewis's over-the-top performance (a more nuanced performance would have done wonders to this material) and a disastrous final scene. Still, another otherwise very impressive effort by a great filmmaker. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Thank You for Smoking (2005) - A mildly interesting look at the life of a tobacco industry lobbyist. There's not much insight here and I'm a little disturbed by it's Libertarian (bordering on Reactionary) undertones. But for anyone curious about how such people can live with themselves in such perceivably evil roles, it might be worth checking out. It has its moments. My Netflix rating: 3 stars

The Prestige (2006) - Ever since I was a little kid, I've always loved the art of illusion. I even had a toy magic set that provided me with hours of entertainment. So I'm always drawn to movies about magic and magicians. Last year, Marcie and I rented a similar themed film called The Illusionist, that I found greatly disappointing and predictable. So I was hoping the second time's the charm for this one. While The Prestige was a step up from The Illusionist, it was similarly predictable (the key secret was so obvious that I even paused the DVD and pointed it out to Marcie). Plus, the third-act incorporation of supernatural elements took the film from being a somewhat enjoyable story of two competing magicians to something a whole lot sillier. That much said, this is a beautifully shot and well acted little period piece and frequently entertaining. My Netflix rating: 3 stars

The Fog of War (2003) - A wonderfully ambiguous documentary about Robert McNamara, one of the key figures behind the Vietnam War under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. Is he sympathetic? Evil? Both? Hard to say, and that's why this is such a fascinating film. My only complaint about the film was some of the more gimmicky dramatic inserts--especially the repetition of falling dominoes. I thought moments like that put a little too fine a point on some of this material and really wasn't necessary. But otherwise, a highly recommended film. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Inside Man (2006) - Spike Lee is an extremely gifted filmmaker who has largely worked outside of the Hollywood system. So it's interesting to see him work in the context of a big budget Hollywood genre film in which he's mostly focused on telling a simply story as entertainingly as he can. On that basis he mostly succeeds. This movie is a ball--sort of like Dog Day Afternoon meets The Italian Job. It's a heist movie, plain and simple, but with great performances and the types of visual flourishes you'd expect from Lee. He even manages to insert some commentary about race--particularly prejudice against people of Middle Eastern decent. So it was nice to see a little "old school Spike Lee" thrown in. That much said, this isn't a film you want to think about too much after you've seen it, as it doesn't hold up to much intellectual scrutiny. But if you want to have a fun couple of hours in the hands of one our best directors, Inside Man certainly fits the bill. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Enchanted (2007) - As the father of two girls, I've certainly seen my share of Disney cartoons this past year, which made watching Enchanted all that more fun. This movie was so charming and Amy Adams so insanely adorable, it's hard not to have a wonderful time with it. Sure, there were certainly plenty of clunky slapstick moments and the film's climax was just like most Disney climaxes: over the top and brainless. But I probably haven't smiled this much during any other movie this year. So unless you have a heart made out of stone, it's pretty much impossible not to enjoy this movie. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

A Scanner Darkly (2006) - I really admire Richard Linklater's approach to his career. Similar to Steven Soderbergh (another director I admire), he'll do the occasional big Hollywood movie (School of Rock, Bad News Bears, etc.) to help sustain his career so he can then focus on more artistic fare, which is obviously where his heart lies. A Scanner Darkly is his second foray into rotoscoped animation after his fascinating Waking Life. But unlike the former film, this one follows a relatively linear plot (though some viewers might still find it a little hard to follow) and is based on non-original source material (specifically, a Philip K. Dick novel). I think the animation technique works particularly well for this type of surreal/futuristic story while not taking anything away from the cast's strong performances. While this film may not be everyone's cup of tea, it was much more accessible than I expected a whole lot funnier to boot. Robert Downey Jr.'s hilariously bizarre performance in particular makes this film worth a try. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Man on Wire (2008) - A thrilling and moving portrait of Philippe Petit's tightrope walk between the Twin Towers in 1974. It's both a celebration of art for art's sake and a celebration of the Twin Towers. One of the most remarkable things about this film is that the events of September 11 are never mentioned, not once, and yet that tragic story is as much a part of this film as anything. After so many images of seeing those towers going down, it was really moving to see them going up. I've also heard this movie referred to as a great heist film, and I think that applies too. How Petit and his associates managed to sneak up to the top of the towers and execute on this feat (not to mention that shear marvel at watching Petit almost floating in air between the two towers) is absolutely amazing. My only problems with the film are an overly dramatic visual motif used when introducing characters and some unnecessary reenactments. Still, it's an incredible story and worthy of its recent Oscar win. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Four Year Blogiversary

2009-03-03T00:01:00.000-08:00

I launched this blog on a whim on March 3, 2005. Four years (and two kids) later, I'm still at it. Time sure flies.

So in honor of today's blogiversary, I thought I'd highlight some of my favorite posts from the past four years. Yes, the famous Marcie/knife entry is included. Enjoy!

March 14, 2005
Of Dionne Warwick and Unintentional Semi-Plagiarism

April 27, 2005
Of Ice Cube, Marcel Proust, and Social Personality

July 11, 2005
The Art of the Mix Tape

September 13, 2005
Melody Shapiro has Arrived!

February 2, 2006
Of Groundhog Day and Time-Looping Films

February 3, 2006
A Tribute to Grandma Sophie

March 23, 2006
Ten Years Ago Today (and Two Days Ago)

April 16, 2006
Time Revisited

July 18, 2006
Cereal Killer

August 8, 2006
Cuts Like a Knife

November 5, 2006
Marcie Posts!

December 11, 2006
The Perfect Cup

December 24, 2006
A Tribute to Tim Rivers

March 7, 2007
It's a Girl!

July 13, 2007
In Praise of Totoro

December 31, 2007
12 Years!

January 23, 2008
This Magic Moment

November 25, 2008
It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

February 12, 2009
Neologism of the Week

The Greatest Meme Ever

2009-02-27T17:18:00.000-08:00

Keith Phipps from the always-entertaining A.V. Club recently posted this blog posting featuring a very cool meme (via BuzzFeed) that involves harnessing the powers of complete Internet randomness to create a very convincing rock band name and album cover. I'll let Peggy Wang from BuzzFeed explain the rules:

Go to "Wikipedia." Hit "random" and the first article you get is the name of your band. Then go to "Random Quotations" and the last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album. Then, go to Flickr and click on "Explore the Last Seven Days" and the third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

I couldn't resist the allure of such randomness, so I thought I'd give it a shot. The result was even better than I expected. Check this out:

Click to see a larger image.

There's something very D&D-meets-The-Cure about the band name and album title. I'm guessing it would be full of songs of dark brooding. But what really takes this exercise in silliness to an entirely new level is the cover art. I love the ironic juxtaposition of the "Too Much Support Hurts" title and the flower-filled photography. Absolutely perfect.

In the spirit of giving credit where credit is due, here are all the sources that resulted in the above creation:

Wikipedia article: Necromancer Games

Quotation: "Ever heard Victoria's REAL secret? Too much support hurts."
R. Stevens, Diesel Sweeties, 03-17-08

Album art: White Wednesday

Anyone else up to the challenge? Post your results on your blog and/or on Facebook and leave me a comment so I know to check it out.

Netflix Wrap-Up #19

2009-02-24T20:54:00.000-08:00

Previous installments: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, #15, #16, #17, #18

I can't believe it's been well over a year since my last Netflix wrap-up. With life getting in the way of entertainment more often than not, I must have been assuming all this time that when I'd eventually get around to doing my next wrap-up, the extended delay wouldn't be all that big of a deal since I wouldn't have many movies to comment on anyway. But much to my shock when I looked at our Netflix rental history last night, Marcie and I actually have managed to squeeze in a pretty sizable number of DVDs over past year. So I had to split up the backlog into two parts. I'll post the second part next week. But for now, here's part one...

Wordplay (2006) - A documentary about crossword puzzles. Sounds boring, right? Surprisingly, this was a genuinely entertaining and even sometimes thrilling film about people who take their crosswords very seriously. The final sequence, in particular, covering a national crossword tournament is a real nail-biter. The film also makes the smart choice of incorporating interviews with famous people who also happen to be crossword addicts (Jon Stewart, Bill Clinton, and many others) to broaden the film's appeal all that much more. Recommended for fellow word nerds and the "lingua-curious" alike. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Superbad (2007) - Exactly what it purports to be: a raunchy comedy with lots of genuinely hilarious moments. This is not smart comedy, but it does have lots of heart. Not every sequence works and you have to have a high tolerance for base humor. But it was certainly funny enough to be worth a spin ("McLovin'" is definitely destined for comedy milestone status). My Netflix rating: 3 stars

The Science of Sleep (2005) - I expected great things from this film by written and directed by Michel Gondry (best known for helming Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). As I expected, the film is visually stunning with an endless parade of playful sequences and the clever blurring of fantasy and reality. The problem is the script. There is absolutely nothing interesting about the man-child protagonist, played ably by the talented Gael Garcia Bernal). In fact, I wanted to hit him over the head with a hammer by the film's end. The rest of the film's characters, story, and circumstances were similarly banal and/or annoying. Clearly, Gondry was more interested in playing with pretty pictures than in telling a story. My Netflix rating: 2 stars

Reign Over Me (2007) - Adam Sandler gives a passible performance in his usual child-with-a-bad-temper mode and Don Cheadle, a wonderful actor, can only do so much with mediocre dialogue. And could Liv Tyler's psychologist character been any more of a cardboard cutout "type" that exists solely to fulfill a plot-device need? Not awful, just painfully mediocre. My Netflix rating: 2 stars

This Film is Not Yet Rated (2006) - I was really looking forward to this documentary that attempts to expose the highly suspect way in which the MPAA Ratings Board operates. While I wasn't entirely disappointed, I merely wished this film went deeper. Some of the examination of the board's role in effectively censoring films was quite illuminating. But then it wastes way too much time following the travails of hired detectives (a shockingly amateurish duo) trying to track down the identities of the Rating Board's members. Still, I'll recommend it to anyone interested in a sometimes thoughtful examination of the tension between art, commercial interests, and implicit censorship. My Netflix rating: 3 stars

No Country for Old Men (2007) - While just over 2 hours, this movie zips right by. It's a thrilling cat and mouse game that hits all the right notes. But what impressed me the most was the abrupt narrative turn it takes in the third act--thus turning the chase formula on its ear. Great performances and terrific filmmaking. One of the few times an Oscar winner actually deserved the award. My Netflix rating: 5 stars

Michael Clayton (2007) - A surprisingly entertaining take on an otherwise tired formula. Not the deepest movie in the world, but it doesn't need to be. It's merely a fun popcorn thriller with great performances and at least some intelligence behind it. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Gone Baby Gone (2007) - Another formula movie that manages to succeed through good writing, strong direction, and decent acting. While the details of this film are now a little fuzzy in my memory, I recall finding the ending to be a bit too neat and I think Casey Affleck might have confused mumbling for naturalism at times. But otherwise, I recall being fully absorbed in the story--a pretty dark one at that. I think Ben Affleck has a promising career ahead of him as a filmmaker. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Atonement (2007) - Absolutely gorgeous to look at and highly entertaining in its epic scale. This is real old-school Hollywood stuff, but with a healthy does of virtuosic filmmaking (the single-take tracking shot that's at the center of the film must have been insanely difficult to pull off). But where the film falls flat is the wooden performance by Keira Knightley and Hallmark Card sentiments--especially the closing moments of the film. If it weren't for the extremely impressive technical elements of the film, I wouldn't have much to recommend. But otherwise.... My Netflix rating: 3 stars

Princess Mononoke (1997) - Is director Hayao Miyazaki capable of making anything other than masterpieces? It's hard to image how he maintains this level of vision in film after film. What's particularly notable about this one is how it manages to be fairly overt in its environmentalist message without being didactic. But most of all, it's just a wonder to look at. Please note: this film might be animated, but I would not recommend it for young children due to it's violent content (decapitations in particular). Oh, and I know I sound like a broken record, but anyone interested in checking out any of Miyazaki's films should never watch it with anything but the original Japanese language soundtrack. My Netflix rating: 5 stars

The Big Lebowski (1998) - For years, people have been telling me I had to see this film. Well, I'm glad to say that everyone was right: this really was a funny, clever, and entertaining ride. With the Coen brothers at the helm, I should have expected as much. The dialogue and wacky performances make the film worth watching on its own. But the bizarre dream sequence turning the accoutrements of a bowling alley into very literally Freudian symbols puts the movie over the top. I also loved the final scene's fourth-wall-breaking closing monologue. I suppose you can argue that the film is more of a stylish exercise in cleverness for the sake of cleverness. But what's wrong with that if it's fun to watch? My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Into the Wild (2007) - An admirably quiet true story from actor/director Sean Penn about a spoiled rich kid, Christopher McCandless, who escapes to the wilderness in a personal quest for authenticity. I appreciate how Penn attempts to keep us feeling someone undecided on McCandless (Is he a dreamer to be admired? A selfish schmuck? A fool?)--although the nature of film can't help to skew the audience towards sympathy. It's a bit rambling at times and drags around the middle. But overall, it's a very well-acted and refreshingly subtle movie that gets under your skin. My Netflix rating: 4 stars

Michael Pease Music Online

2009-02-19T20:09:00.000-08:00

I'd like to share some good news for fellow music fans. My good friend and singer-songwriter/multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire (not to mention one-time Shapiro Files guest blogger), Michael Pease, has entered the world of MySpace music sharing. After what I'm guessing was many laborious weeks (months?) of hard work on some very complicated multitrack recordings, Michael created a new MySpace page with three new recordings and one classic from his back catalog that I invite everyone to check out.

You'll definitely hear lots of his influences in the recordings (most notably Queen, Jellyfish, and Styx) and I hope everyone can appreciate how much work it must have taken to lay down all those many vocal and instrument tracks. Every sound you'll hear is all Michael. Every vocal harmony, every keyboard part, every guitar lick--it's all Mister Pease. Those of you who have done their own recording will likely appreciate all the effort it must have taken to put together these recordings. As for everyone else, just know that doing this type of stuff ain't easy!

So I invite you to check out his page and enjoy the recordings. If you do, please leave him some comments on the page to let him know you were there!

By the way, Michael's efforts have inspired me to start thinking about resuming work on my own recordings. But first, I need to decide which direction I should take. I have two different options:

Option #1 is going the more focused/targeted route by expanding on the piano-based instrumental work I've done for Marcie's company last year and release a CD of just these types of songs (sort of my own George Winston/Windham Hill type of thing). This would definitely be a lot easier to market--particularly to people looking for mellow/sentimental piano-based instrumentals for wedding videos and similar uses.

Option #2 would be finally making a dedicated effort at re-recording some of my more interesting songs from the past 20 years using our current digital home studio technology. This would be a considerably more ambitious effort, but with potentially much less "marketability"--not that such a thing is really the point of any of this. But, to be honest, I know my strength is my piano playing and instrumental arranging. Whereas, my octave-lower Barry Mannilow-meets-Neil Diamond vocal stylings aren't going to be for everyone. Plus my musical inclinations tend to go two ways at once (both long-form progressive and unabashedly mainstream mid-tempo). So, to re-purpose a classic line from comedian Andy Kindler: My audience might solely consist of people, my age, who are me.

Either project is going to take a while. So I wouldn't count on any CD release announcements any time in the immediate future!

Neologism of the Week

2009-02-12T18:39:00.000-08:00

From the time I started taking piano lessons at age 6 to the present, I've rarely gone a day without playing at least a little piano or keyboard. Now that I'm a parent, this practice has largely evolved into serving as my kids' music monkey, attempting to play their song requests (usually Disney tunes) while one or both of them is hanging on to me or otherwise blocking me from accessing all 88 keys.

So while the circumstances of my playing have changed, my piano playing is still a very common occurrence in our house. Which is why it surprised me the other night when Melody came up to me while I was improvising something at the keyboard and asked, "Daddy, what are you doing?"

I wasn't sure she asked this because I was playing an unfamiliar tune or she was just being funny. But either way, I playfully responded, "What do you I think I'm doing?"

Her reply: "Pianoing."

I thought this was a brilliant response. After all these years behind the keyboard, I never thought of turning "piano" into a verb. My daughter is a genius.

After all, we live in a text- and instant-messaging world in which concise language rules. I say we finally throw out the unwieldy "playing piano" and go with the much more efficient "pianoing"--as in "I pianoed yesterday," "I will piano tomorrow," and "He pianoed that piano at just the right amount of piano."

So how about it? Shall we petition Merriam-Webster to help us start a new age of lexicographic brevity? Maybe we can call it dictionarying. Who's with me?

25 Things

2009-01-28T20:38:00.000-08:00

There has recently been a flutter of activity among my Facebook friends around a meme entitled “25 Things.” The object of this particular meme is very simple: List 25 things about yourself that people may not necessarily know and tag other Facebook friends to do the same.

I very rarely participate in these types of things, but heck, I’m always looking for fun blog topics. So I figured I can post my list here and then share the link with those who’ve tagged me. And if anyone feels compelled to do the same on their blog with a link back to me, even better!

So without further ado, here we go:

I can’t stand raisins. Just the thought of them gives me the heebie-jeebies. And yet, I like grapes. Grape juice too. But raisins are pure evil.

One of my more recent obsessions (about 2 years now) is Sudoku. I love that it’s a game of pure logic. It’s all about finding the one “inevitable possibility” — something that’s a perfect fit for how I process the world around me.

I’ve watched all but one film in the AFI Top 100. The one outstanding title is The African Queen because it’s not available on DVD.

My favorite author is John Barth. Lost in the Funhouse is a masterpiece. So are Chimera, Giles Goat-Boy, and Letters.

My favorite dessert is anything with chocolate. But when it comes to ice cream (and only ice cream), I actually prefer vanilla.

I’ve lost count of all the weddings at which I’ve played piano or keyboard.

In high school, I used to love drawing cartoon monsters and giving them away to friends.

I once served as Editor in Chief of Pacific Review, a San Diego-based literary magazine. The highlight of my time in the role was when highly esteemed postmodern author Raymond Federman sent me an angry letter (replete with profanity) asking what happened to his stories. It all worked out fine in the end (it was just a funding delay) and he even signed my copy of the issue in which I published his fine contributions.

My favorite paper I wrote in graduate school was a 20+ page New Historical critical analysis of the television program I Love Lucy.

I worked my way through college and remained employed with the same on-campus organization all throughout my undergraduate and graduate years. But sometimes that wasn’t enough to make ends meet. One second job I took was working weekends as a costume character, Sunny the Seal, for Sunny 103.7 FM in San Diego. I also did a stint at Eagle 105.3 KCBQ (now defunct) working promotions. This included driving vintage 1950s Ford Mustangs to the Earthquake Cafe (now closed) where they used to do live broadcasts Saturday nights.

As if going to school full time and holding multiple jobs wasn’t enough during my college years, I also found time to participate in the SDSU Concert Choir, SDSU Chamber Singers, the San Diego Master Chorale, San Diego Theater Sports, and a 1950s classic rock and roll band called The Silvertones. I even played piano (plus occasional guitar) and did rhythm section arrangements for a group called The Great Day. They even let take the virtual podium as conductor a couple times. Very nice people.

Of all the places I’ve done theater, my favorite was Boston. The actors, musicians, directors, producers, and tech crews were so genuinely kind and wonderful to work with. West Coast readers, please don’t dispair: I’ve also worked with some very lovely people in all the other places I’ve done theater too. I’m lucky that way.

My favorite season: Autumn.

My favorite holiday: Thanksgiving. Passover runs a close second.

I collected Dynamite Magazine as a kid, but had a hard time getting my hands on issues 1-10 (#1 was truly impossible). As an adult, I got lucky on Ebay and managed to secure the first 20 issues of the magazine (#1 included). By that point, I was about 25 years beyond being interested in the actual content of the magazines. It was purely the fulfillment of a childhood dream.

I’ve never understood the appeal of the band R.E.M.

As a M.A. in English and life-long avid reader, I used to consider myself fairly well-read. But I recently perused the Modern Library’s 100 Best Novels list and discovered I’ve only read 18 of the books on their “Board’s List.” Even on their more commercial-leaning “Reader’s List,” I’ve only read 24 of the titles. Ouch. I think I have a whole lot more reading to do.

I’m a Beatles freak and have been accused of being a walking encyclopedia of useless Beatles trivia.

I’m the only person I know who has a bread maker and actually uses it. Regularly. For 15+ years and running.

The first professional synthesizer I ever owned was a Moog Opus 3. Bulky, heavy, and very retro-cool. But pretty limited usage-wise.

My first theatrical performance (at least, that I can remember), was as a Native American for a 1976 Bicentennial celebration play at our local park. I only had one task: follow a bunch of similarly attired children out of one door, run the course of a small semi-circle, and enter another door. I missed my cue and ended up trailing the other children by a very noticeable margin. The result was my first onstage laugh.

I had numerous obsessions as a child. Just some of these included coloring books, board games, puppets, and Star Wars action figures and playsets (Degobah was my favorite).

I studied Samuel Beckett as an undergraduate and genuinely enjoyed it.

I produced a song/sound collage and video, both called 2+2, as a final project for an upper-division college course in Postmodernism. In graduate school, I recorded a sequel for a class in Avant Pop taught by the same professor. The name of the sequel? You guessed it: 2+2+2.

I prefer social interactions where all participants are seated. It’s hard to have a meaningful conversation while standing.

Guilty Displeasures

2009-01-23T21:40:00.000-08:00

I was just reading the always-entertaining A.V. Club website and stumbled upon a new entry in their ongoing “AVQ&A” series in which several A.V. Club staff writers each addresses the same reader-submitted question. This week’s question concerned “guilty displeasures” — that is, art that is generally critically lauded, but which staff writers have never quite been able to truly enjoy themselves.

For example, perhaps Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane has never done anything for you — despite the fact it tops just about ever “greatest films of all time” list published over the past decade. Of maybe you’ve never understood all the ballyhoo about Mozart, Shakespeare, or Picasso. Understandably, you might actually feel a little embarrased about your tastes when it comes to such otherwise praised and canonized artists.

So in that spirit, I thought it might be fun to come clean on a couple of musical artists that I’ve never quite been able to embrace despite the fact that so many others do.

The first — and this is a tough one — is Bruce Springsteen.

I know, I know. I should probably quickly clarify that I don’t necessary dislike any of his music. I just can’t bring myself to love it or even like with any degree of enthusiasm. I do admire Springsteen’s integrity and also agree with the general consensus that he’s a very dynamic performer in a live setting. It’s just that I don’t find his melodies/chord progressions particularly engaging. He’s a very talented lyricist without doubt. But unless you’re, say, Bob Dylan, whose lyrical prowess transcends the pop/rock idiom, I need a little more.

I hate to admit this because I really do want to love his music. I’ve purchased The River, Darkness on the Edge of Town, and Nebraska (all considered high points in his career), and listened to them numerous times hoping they’d grow on me. But no amount of repeated listening has made the songs any more musically compelling. I should add that I also borrowed Born to Run from a friend years ago and similarly sat through repeated listenings in the effort to generate some enthusiasm that never came.

Go figure.

So there you have it. I don’t love Bruce Springsteen’s music and I’m relieved that I no longer have to hide it.

Who knows, maybe some day I’ll come around. I don’t think I’ll ever close myself off to that possibility. But either way, at least his music doesn’t irritate me or motivate me to change the station when it gets played on the radio.

No, that particular dishonor goes to my next guilty displeasure.

From the 80s to today, I’ve never been able to bring myself to enjoy the music of U2. And believe me, I really wanted to. The first time I tried in ernest was in the mid-80s. I was sitting in the back of a friend’s car while he expatiated upon the brilliance of the then-new band. I had no preconceived notions about U2 and no reason to doubt my friend’s recommendation. However, once he began playing their tape on the car radio, I was greatly dissapointed. My initial reaction was that all the songs sounded the same and that the musicianship of the performers wasn’t particularly good (bordering on amateurish).

25 years later, I still pretty much feel the same way.

While the band’s playing has improved somewhat after so many years of regular touring, I still don’t find much variety in their music. And even for all the praise bestoyed on The Edge for his unique sound, he still can’t play a guitar solo to save his life. Sure, he’s been quite innovative in his use of flanger and chorus effect pedals, but all he plays are chords or simple rhythmic patterns. The result is a rock band without a lead guitarist. That’s like a sandwich without anything between the slices of bread.

All this said, I recognize that U2 has received a considerable amount of critical and commercial acclaim over the years and appreciate their efforts to leverage their popularity in the service of charitable causes. But despite all this, I just don’t find their music interesting. In fact, their stuff mostly bores me to tears.

Whew. I’m glad I got all that off my chest. Now bring on the hate mail.

Easy Access to History

2009-01-18T23:24:00.000-08:00

Hats

2009-01-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

Last year I posted this entry about writing our first holiday newsletter. I talked about agonizing over the first paragraph, as I had to trim a fair amount of out of it to get the whole newsletter to fit on one side of one page. As a result of the edit, I felt that the irony of a deliberately wordy introductory paragraph to what was otherwise an highly-succinct annual summary was lost.

This year I had another expository challenge with no less vexing results. In one of the newsletter bullet points summarizing some of the highlights of our year, I talked about doing several music recordings for Marcie’s business, Life Visions Productions. I closed the bullet with a pop cultural joke stating that my next musical endeavor would be recording a medley of songs by the band who recorded “The Safety Dance” in the 80s (you know: “You can dance if you want to/You can leave your friends behind/And if your friends don’t dance if they don’t dance/Well they’re no friends of mine”). I knew this was a pretty esoteric reference so I decided to do a second version of the reference where I state that my next project is a medley of Liberace hits. I actually agonized over this alternate version because I wasn’t sure if people would even get that reference. I had even toyed with making the reference to Barry Manilow, but thought there was a chance that some people would think I was being serious (not there’s anything wrong with doing a medley of Manilow hits!).

As a result of having two versions of the newsletter, I had to carefully go through our entire mailing list (150+ addressees this year) to determine who would get the “Safety Dance” reference (mostly people who came of age in the 80s like myself) and who should otherwise get the Liberace version of the newsletter. This was an extra burden to an already complicated mailing.

But here’s the ironic part. In my absolute confidence in the hipness of my pop cultural reference, I named the “Safety Dance” band as “Men in Hats.” However, it wasn’t until all the newsletters were printed and mailed that I learned (courtesy of my much hipper sister-in-law Kim) that the band is actually named Men Without Hats. So not only did I create far too much work for myself than necessary by maintaining two separate mailings, but even those who received the “Hats” version of the newsletter and would have otherwise gotten the reference were probably baffled by the odd mention of something called “Men in Hats.”

Oh well. There’s always next year.

By the way, for anyone who hasn’t seen this year’s full newsletter, you can get it in PDF form here. Yes, it’s the Liberace version.

And for anyone who’s interested in getting on the official annual mailing, just drop me a line. You know where to find me.

Only 5 Degrees Away from Kevin Bacon!

2008-12-18T22:15:00.000-08:00

After turning into quite the pop cultural phenomenon several years ago, the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game is probably at least vaguely familiar to anyone with cable TV and/or an Internet connection. Well I’m glad to report that due to my appearance in Nightmare on Film Street and my subsequent listing on IMDB, I was able to use a nifty CGI-based web service called The Oracle of Bacon to discover I was a mere five steps away from the omnipresent actor.

Heck, we’re so close we can be brothers. Maybe he’ll invite me over for the holidays.

'Tis the Season for Tim Rivers

2008-12-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

A couple of years ago, I posted this tribute to Tim Rivers, a very dear friend who left us far too early. I hope anyone who didn’t have a chance to read that post will take a few minutes to do so to learn more about this incredibly talented and generous person.

To continue celebrating his life and music, I’m officially launching a yearly post with a link to his very impressive holiday recordings. My original post has the whole history of those recordings and how I was fortunate enough to produce a couple of them myself. But the long and short of it is that Tim managed to create very rich four-part a-cappella vocal performances, singing all the parts himself, through the magic of multi-track recording technology. Even more impressive was that all the recordings were from the predominantly pre-digital ‘80s/early ‘90s, meaning there was no pitch correction available and I don’t believe he even a used a click track (he certainly didn’t for our recordings).

So for some great holiday music, I encourage you to check out A Tim Rivers Collection, available for free. As I said in my original post, I felt making these recordings available to as many people as possible was the least I could do to pay tribute to someone who had such a big impact on my life and on countless others.

Photos, Photos, and More Photos

2008-11-30T01:33:00.000-08:00

It wasn’t easy, but I am finally all caught up on going through the hundreds (thousands?) of kids’ photos from the past year. In addition to the new albums I announced in my November 25 post, I have just posted two even newer albums:

Melody & Julianne: July - September 2008
Melody & Julianne: October - December 2008

Since there’s still a full month left to the year, I’ll continue to add to the second album above as the month progresses. So if you check back regularly, you’ll see new pictures periodically showing up at the end of that album.

As always, you can access all my online albums via my photo album index page, which goes all the way back to 2004 and includes several theater-related albums from my pre-Daddy days.

Its the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2008-11-25T22:18:00.000-08:00

No, I’m not talking about Thanksgiving or the Chanukah / Christmas / Kwanza / Festivus winter holidays. I’m talking about Mallomars.

That’s right: Mallomars. The greatest commercially-produced cookie in the history of the universe.

East Coast readers will know what I’m talking about. For everyone else, let me just say that Mallomars are a seasonally produced product by Nabisco. Their composition is simple: graham crackers toped by marshmallow and all enrobed in dark chocolate. That’s pretty much all there is to it. But a great cookie is more than a collection of ingredients. It’s that certain extra undefinable something that creates cookie goodness.

I’ll always remember the time from my childhood when I visited my father at his workplace and accidentally discovered that he kept a stash of Mallomars in his desk drawer — a true life-changing event. From then on, no visit to my father’s workplace was complete without sneaking a cookie or two out of their hiding place when he stepped out of his office. Ah, memories.

Every year, Nabisco waits until the weather is cool enough to allow Mallomars to be shipped to stores — mostly in and around New York, but also to the West Coast for a particularly limited time. The chocolate melts easily, so I guess it’s important to ensure the cookies ship only when the weather is likely to stay cool. Because of this, I never know when the cookies are going to show up at any of my local markets. And when they do, they’re almost always gone as soon as they arrive. I usually start looking for them in Sepetember and if I don't see them by late October, I all but resign myself to the devastating possibility that I’ve managed to miss them for the year. Fortunately for the past few years, I’ve lucked out and managed to be at the right market at the right time.

And so it was that Lady Luck visited me again this year. This past weekend I was shopping at PW Market with Melody and Julianne, distracted in my dual task of selecting the items we need and entertaining the kiddies with Daddy-ish conversation, when the delightfully familiar and oh-so wonderful yellow of the Mallomar box caught my eye. I greedily snatched up four boxes (mustering up the self-control it takes to keep from completely emptying the shelf takes all the will power I have) and knew that the true holiday season of Mallomar goodness has begun.

For more about Mallomars and what all the fuss is about, check out this page. Extra credit to anyone who understands what I mean by saying I fall into the “dorsal method” camp.

New Photo Albums!

2008-11-18T01:48:00.000-08:00

After countless delays, I’m finally working my way through all the kids’ photos from the past year. I'm about halfway through, having just made my way through June, and thought this would be a good time to post links to the newest albums. So without further ado, here they are:

Melody: From 24 Months to 27 Months
Melody & Julianne: December 2007 - March 2008
Julianne’s First Birthday Party (March 2008)
Melody & Julianne: April - June 2008

You'll see that I’ve gradually transitioned from creating separate albums for Melody and Julianne to simply doing combined albums. Now that Julianne is older and walking, the kids are pretty much always together now, so it didn’t make sense to do separate albums when they mostly overlapped anyway. I’m also aiming at doing these quarterly now. So the next album will cover July through September and the one after that, naturally, will cover October through December.

By the way, don’t forget to visit my photo album collection page to view all of the albums I’ve posted over the past number of years (including some pre-kids theater albums).

My goal is to be fully caught up by the end of the year (hopefully sooner). But in the interim, here are a few recent Halloween-related shots I thought pretty well represents what the kids have been up to most recently.

Lessons in Parenting

2008-02-20T21:17:00.000-08:00

Here’s a little something that recently brightened my day.

It was just another regular morning around the Shapiro household. We had all just finished breakfast and were enjoying a few minutes of downtime in the living room. Melody and Julianne were sitting together on their Dora the Explorer character kiddie-couch like the two proverbial peas in a pod they often are, while Marcie and I were similarly situated on a love seat.

Never one to miss a happy domestic moment, I took the opportunity to give Marcie a prolonged hug. While in mid-embrace, I began to sense that little eyes were pointed in our direction. I looked down to see that Melody and Julianne were indeed watching us with great interest. Then with a big smile, Melody gave Julianne a loving hug, imitating her Mommy and Daddy perfectly.

Not only was I completely charmed by this unexpected gesture of sibling affection, but I also had one of those “ah ha” moments. It occurred to me that this is a perfect illustration of how children truly do learn by example. If they grow up in a household where their parents are affectionate, then they tend to be more affectionate. Of course, such learning by example also applies to the negative end of the spectrum when children grow up in less than ideal household circumstances.

So it should be a great reminder to all parents to always treat their spouses with the same love, courtesy, and respect we’d want our children to exhibit in their interpersonal interactions. It’s not enough to be on our best behavior only when interacting directly with our children; it’s how they see us interact with others that’s just as important.

Out of the Mouth of Babes

2008-02-08T00:00:00.000-08:00

In the days leading up to so-called “Super Tuesday” this week, there was plenty of talk around the house about the candidates — obviously with Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama coming up most frequently. Not really having a terribly strong opinion about either (both have their relative strengths and weaknesses), I often playfully asked Melody whom she prefers. Her response was usually something to the effect of “I like Bama” — probably because “Obama” (or “Bama” in her case) is simply more fun to say.

Our designated polling location was in the garage of a house just up the street and I swung by on the way home from work to cast my vote. Marcie hadn’t had a chance to go earlier in the day and decided to go after dinner. But when Melody got wind of this plan, she insisted in joining along. At first, we just thought she wanted to go with Marcie just for the sake of going on an outing with her mother. But Marcie soon learned why Melody was so keen to go on this particular outing. When they arrived at the polling location, Melody exclaimed, “Bama’s house!” Apparently, with all the talk of elections and voting, Melody somehow associated a polling location with the candidates themselves and thought she was going to “their house.” Naturally Marcie tried to clarify the nature of their errand, but Melody remained convinced she was going to see “Bama.”

Interestingly enough, Melody turned out not to be particularly disappointed that there was no “Bama” present amongst the ballet boxes. This may have possibly been because the poll workers gave her a whopping four “I voted” stickers — a real treasure trove when you’re two.