An October Tree Overlooks the Mississippi (2012)

An October Tree Overlooks the Mississippi

Surrounded by drying,

Half-dying leaves,

Desperate to wrest a bit more sun

To their curling bodies

Before winter hisses its frosty breath on them,

A long clutch of leaves

Holds fast to red.

Brilliant, like a Christmas sled

In a Norman Rockwell,

How could my eye

Catch sight of anything else?

It spans the length of the trunk

And reaches, reaches,

To the limits of a sky-brushing branch.

It’s as if the onset of winter

Crawls up from below,

And if it can just get high enough,

Its color won’t bleed away

Or force it to fall.

It’s like a scarlet snake,

An autumn anaconda

Slithering its way always upward.

It’s like a forgotten scarf

Beginning to slip down a coat rack,

Still clinging by its tassels.

Hamilton: Songs 1-5

In contemplating a Top Five post for the music from Hamilton, I realized a simple truth:  it can’t be done.  No way can I single out just five songs from this score.  So, I’ve decided to do it like the various Buster Keaton shorts and write about them all, five at a time.  Chronological this time around, with one photo per post, since I know I won’t find 46 different shots from the show.  (Note:  I’m aware that part of this is the cast recording’s newness – it’s not like it’s impossible to narrow Hamilton down to five songs, but Sunday in the Park with George was a cake walk.  However, given the sheer number of songs in the show, and the awesomeness thereof, I think even picking five songs per act would be just unfair.  In short, I feel good about my decision.)

“Alexander Hamilton” – It’s weird to hear a different take on this song after listening to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s solo version 12,000 times in the last five years, but it’s still amazing.  The music builds nicely as each voice adds to Hamilton’s story, and the lyrics are insane.  Minute for minute, one of the most jam-packed, superbly-rhymed educational songs I’ve ever heard.

Best line:  “Then a hurricane came, and devastation reigned, / Our man saw his future drip, dripping down the drain, / Put a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain, / And he wrote his first refrain, a testament to his pain.”

“Aaron Burr, Sir” – Introduces the recurring “Aaron Burr” motif, along with Burr and Hamilton themselves (and Hamilton’s fervor.)  Plus, we meet the fantastic trio of Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan – I just love the loose, freestyle atmosphere they bring to this number.

Best line:  “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”

“My Shot” – In a way, this is Hamilton’s “I Want” song, although really, the whole things is kind of an “I Want” show; I love how he chases after everything and never stops striving.  It also introduces the “rise up” theme, and Hamilton’s thoughts on the coming revolution are great.

Best line:  “Hey, yo, I’m just like my country, / I’m young, scrappy, and hungry, / And I’m not throwing away my shot.”

“The Story of Tonight” – Less of a number, more a slight breather in the plot.  It cements the relationship between Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan.  The song fairly simple, but my affection for the characters and appreciation for their idealism elevates it.

Best line:  “Raise a glass to freedom, / Something they can never take away, / No matter what they tell you.”

“The Schuyler Sisters” – Our introduction to the Schuyler sisters, along with the “look around” theme.  Angelica’s wit is in full force, the harmonies are gorgeous, and I love that the revolution is shown from the sisters’ perspective as well, subverting the typical “historical men’s story.”

Best line:  “‘We hold these truths to be self-evident / That all men are created equal,’ / And when I meet Thomas Jefferson, / I’m ‘a compel him to include women in the sequel!”

Favorite Characters: Bel Rowley (The Hour)

Okay, so I don’t find this passionate, determined TV producer fighting the boys’ club of the mid-century BBC quite as cool since I saw the incredible Verity Lambert in An Adventure in Space and Time.  Not only is Verity a) BAMF, b) a real person, and c) the first producer of Doctor frickin’ Who, accounts also suggest she was even more awesome in real life.  So really, who can compete with that?

But that’s all right, because Bel is still pretty great.  She’s a woman with huge ambitions that she doesn’t apologize for.  In the ‘50s, an age when female producers just weren’t a thing, Bel goes after the captain-of-the-ship position on The Hour, a news program with an arresting new format and its sights set on the stories other programs aren’t telling.  Plenty of men in her industry think she can’t do it, and it’s even suggested that she may have gotten the job due to a perception that she’d be easier than a male counterpart to steer behind the curtain.  Is she perfect, as a person, a woman, or a producer?  Of course not, but her creative vision and fierce dedication pay off in big ways.  When colleagues and work contacts give her the old “run along, darling; men are working” attitude, it hurts, obviously – near-daily backhanded slaps in the face – but she grits her teeth and keeps at it.  She recognizes that, ultimately, no matter how cutting and pithy her retorts to their casual, deep-ingrained sexism are, the only real way to beat them is to prove them wrong.

Now, she naturally wants big things for herself and her career, but she also wants nothing but the best for her program.  Bel has a keen eye for television:  what does and doesn’t work on-camera, how to build an interview to a crescendo, and how to get around the red tape set up to limit journalists.  What’s more, she has an honest, hard-won fervor for news.  What happens, at home and around the world, matters to her, and nothing is more precious to her than presenting the news in provocative ways that make people look at a subject from a hitherto-unseen angle.  Though not quite as reckless as Freddie, she puts herself out on any number of limbs in pursuit of an important story.  In the battle for Bel’s attentions, her work comes first pretty much every time.

On the personal-life side of things, it’s hardly the first time we’ve seen a story about a woman whose flings and love interests can’t handle her dedication to her work.  However, this is one of the most well-done versions of this trope that I’ve seen.  I love that the show gets that it’s not just about her obligations, or using work to deflect addressing daunting personal stuff, or even her desire to prove herself to people who don’t believe in her.  These things are all factors, but at the heart of it is her passion for news.  When Bel says she loves her work, I buy it wholeheartedly – she talks about the news the way other characters talk about their love-interests.  Gorgeous.

And as smart, committed, and curious as she is, I like that she can also be kind of a disaster.  She has an unfortunate tendency to fall for unavailable men, and when she focuses too hard on the misogynistic naysayers, her anxiousness to refute them can sometimes get in her way, tripping her up and muddying her efforts.  I like that she’s not always strong.  I like that, even though she knows sexism is ugly and stupid, it wears at her and she can have self-doubts.  Maybe it goes back to that (amazing) Dead Like Me quote about “respecting someone for being a mess, because you’re a mess, too.”  Bel is flawed, but she feels flawed in a rich, complex way, which makes me all the happier to root for her to get it right.

Allegiance (2015)

Allegiance hasn’t even opened yet, but back when I first heard about it, I was all over it.  Lea Salonga back on Broadway, in a show featuring Michael K. Lee and Telly Leung, with bonus George Takei?  No contest – it constituted the third must-see show for my recent trip, and it also has the distinction for being the first preview performance I’ve seen.

Like 120,000 other Japanese Americans, the Kimura family’s lives are turned upside-down on December 7, 1941.  With the U.S. thrown into war with Japan, immigrants and American citizens alike are suddenly regarded as potential traitors, and despite the Kimuras’ efforts to prove their legitimacy as loyal Americans, they’re interned at a “relocation center” in Wyoming.  Adult siblings Sammy and Kei have always relied on each other, but in the camp, they find their paths diverging:  Sammy is convinced that joining the army will help his family earn their way back into the American fold, while Kei is increasingly disillusioned with the government that treats her and her people like criminals due to extreme xenophobia and othering.

Confession first – of the three shows I saw in New York, this was my least favorite.  However, since Fun Home was this year’s big Tony winner and Hamilton all but has next year’s in the bag, edging out either would be a tall order.  Additionally, while all three have drool-worthy casts, Fun Home and Hamilton also have creators to die for (Caroline, or Change’s Jeanine Tesori and the inimitable Lin-Manuel Miranda, respectively.)  I’m not familiar with Jay Kuo, who wrote the score for Allegiance, but it appears to be his first Broadway writing credit; his others are for producing.  Furthermore, I went into the show “cold,” since the cast recording isn’t available yet.  So, the deck isn’t as stacked in its favor, plus, with the show still in previews, it may change some before opening night.  That said, the score feels kind of generic to me.  The songs are mostly pretty and a bit bland, and many of the lyrics strike me as utilitarian, getting the point across without much spark or poetry.  Only a few songs really stood out to me (and much of this is down to the across-the-board excellent performances – the exception is the darkly-satirical “Paradise,” which would be great even without Michael K. Lee’s dynamite execution.)

However, it’s no write-off.  There are some compelling characters, particularly Kei, who finds herself in atrociously adverse conditions.  I also like the tricky, messy conflicts within the camp, differing opinions on how to fix an appalling situation that has no fix; doubling down on loyalty to the U.S. after the injustice of internment can be seen as an insult to one’s culture, but open protest furthers mainstream views of Japanese Americans as traitorous or unpatriotic.  It’s an impossible dilemma – one in which even the Japanese American Citizen League, the organization supposed to be protecting the community, is complicit – and I like that the show allows it to be difficult.  And the cast – I mean, goodness gracious.  Two-time Disney princess (the singing voice of Jasmine and Mulan, respect) Lea Salonga is sublime as Kei, Pacific Overtures alumni Telly Leung and Michael K. Lee both deliver as two sides of the same coin, the desperately patriotic Sammy and the fiercely defiant Frankie.  And George Takei, playing the Kimura grandfather as well as an older Sammy, brings humor and warmth in equal measure.

Warnings

Strong thematic elements, violence, language (including ethnic slurs,) and sexual references.

Fun Home, Again (2015)

No way was I missing out on this one.  Last season’s big Tony winner is spectacular onstage.  The music is fantastic, the acting is incredible, and the production is gorgeous.  So glad I was able to see it (and that the theatre it’s playing in is awfully small for Broadway – I felt so close to the stage!)  Premise spoilers.

Quick recap.  Fun Home is the story of cartoonist Alison Bechdel writing and drawing the story of her life, specifically her difficult relationship with her father, Bruce.  The show dances back and forth among three periods of her life:  her childhood in the family funeral home under the demanding Bruce, her sexual awakening and subsequent coming-out during her first year of college, and her adult recollections as she works on her graphic memoir.  As much as it’s Alison’s tale, it’s also the tale of Bruce and how his deeply-entrenched closetedness was felt through the rest of the family.

Fine production all around.  I’m not a huge fan of theatre in the round, since it means the actors are facing you a fourth of the time at most, but I’d say that here, it’s done about as well as possible.  The relatively spare set reorients itself along with the cast, so everything/everyone is seen from pretty much every angle, and the cast is careful to spread the love among the entire 360 degrees.  And even though the set isn’t extensive, the show still does a nice job conveying the impression of the slavishly-restored Bechdel home – there are just enough fussy and pretentious decorative touches to help the mind fill in the rest of Bruce’s obsessive vision.

This may seem like an odd thing to single out, but the lighting is excellent.  So many times in the show, it’s used in inventive ways that perfectly create the desired effect without being showy about it.  Lighting contributes to the three best visually-realized scenes (in my opinion) – young Alison’s first encounter with one of the dead bodies at the funeral home, Bruce’s midnight escape during a family trip, and Bruce and Alison’s car ride near the end of the show.  Light and staging is also used magnificently in the scene before Bruce’s show-stopping “Edges of the World,” creating the sense that the family’s distractions, trappings, and ostentations are literally falling away from them, leaving nothing between them and their emotions.

The cast – oh my goodness.  Michael Cerveris is of course superb as Bruce, insecure, mercurial, and yearning.  With every word and movement, he is a man trying to convince himself that he’s living more than half a life.  Judy Kuhn (former Disney princess – the singing voice of Pocahontas, not to mention the original grown Cosette in Les Miz on Broadway) imbues long-suffering wife Helen with the full weight of her family’s secrets and charades.  And all three Alisons are pitch perfect.  Sydney Lucas, the original young Alison, isn’t with the show any longer, but Gabriella Pizzolo fills the role quite capably.  Her voice is lovely and earnest, and she beautifully plays the “something out of the place” that Alison unconsciously feels running through her home.  I feel it’s a little harder to connect with college-age Alison on the cast recording, since she only has one big song, but Emily Skaggs’s acting is so funny, honest, and aching that she won me over immediately.  So, the three Alisons are all neck-and-neck for me now.  Beth Malone, as adult Alison, steers the ship with humor and heart.  Her running commentary guides without intruding, and I love watching her face as she watches the memories of her younger selves.

The Root of the MGM Problem

Now, Buster Keaton’s MGM films are obviously riddled with issues.  The studio preferred tried-and-true comedic formulas and had no stomach for inventive auteurs (sound familiar?  The more things change, the more they stay the same.)  They hired Buster for his star power, not for his abilities, and they didn’t give him any say in the making of his own movies.  The head honchos really didn’t understand (or even like) slapstick, and in the early talkie years, they were mad for “jokes” rather than sight gags or visual comedy.  All of that is unfortunate at best, depressing at worst.  However, for me, these problems either stem from or contribute to the central failing of the MGM films:  the departure they take from Buster’s trademark characterization.

As I keep saying, again and again, I love the character Buster develops in his independent work, which began to form in the shorts and was cemented in the features.  Buster’s little fellow has a few different variations – dandy, regular Joe, aesthete – but they’re all alike where it counts.  His character is first and foremost a doer, a tenacious and resourceful go-getter who never backs down from taking on bad guys and rivals who are all bigger and more powerful than him.  He’s like a slapstick David, clumsy and disaster-prone but determined and clever.  He always comes out on top in the end, and he always brings about his own endings.

Skip ahead to the MGM years, and our dogged little scrapper is nowhere to found.  Instead, he’s replaced by the stock character MGM created for Buster, the “Elmer.”  This character couldn’t be further from Buster’s standard persona.  Rather than smart and imaginative, he’s frequently dull, sometimes outright stupid.  When taken to the extreme, this is just painful to watch; in Free and Easy (ugh,) he can’t recite a four-word line when it’s fed to him bit by bit, and in Parlor, Bedroom and Bath, he doesn’t know how to spell the word “coat.”  I mean, come on!  This is a far cry from the eminently-rootable character Buster created for himself, and in a broader context, it’s just lazy.  I hate the assumption that comedy can’t be smart – it’s that kind of attitude that tends to put comedy beneath drama in terms of craft, care, difficulty, etc., when in truth, drama isn’t inherently better, just different.

And even worse, the Elmer character is passive.  Buster’s little fellow is always active.  Yes, lots of craziness happens around him, but he also makes things happen.  He doesn’t sit on his heels; he rolls up his sleeves and leans into the wind.  Even when he screws up, he’s still trying, still adapting, to working to find a way to get it right.  This dynamism is threaded all through his persona, right down to his clumsiness, which, in his independent work, is so spectacular and gracefully kinetic.  But if Buster’s character swims upstream, MGM’s drifts with the current.  Things happen to him, not the other way around.  Most of the time, if he does do something, it’s because someone else is telling to.  If he saves the day, it’s more often than not by accident.  Again, this is hugely frustrating and disheartening for viewers accustomed to Buster’s usual activeness.  From a more general cinematic perspective, it’s similarly problematic, because what sort of central character doesn’t do anything?  How can you make a movie out of that?  Though I don’t particularly relish the idea, I’m thinking I ought to try watching a few non-Buster MGM films from the same era, and maybe even a couple from the silent days.  I mean, do they do this in all their movies, or were they so annoyed at Buster having actual ideas and wanting creative input that they deliberately made flat, poorly-conceived just to stick it to him?  Either way, I’m not amused.

Doctor Who: Series 9, Episode 6 – “The Woman Who Lived” (2015)

Well, after a shakier showing last week, this episode is a significant improvement.  I wouldn’t exactly call “The Girl Who Died” / “The Woman Who Lived” a two-parter – more of a couplet, two separate adventures that follow one another.  Kind of like “A Good Man Goes to War” and “Let’s Kill Hitler,” although “Let’s Kill Hitler” isn’t nearly this good.  In order to say anything about this episode, I need to spoil last week’s ending in a big way, so be advised.

Given Clara’s extreme part-time companion status (although it’s been less emphasized this season,) it was only a matter of time before we saw Twelve on a solo adventure.  I think this may actually be the first time a Doctor with a current companion has an episode without them – after Sarah Jane, Four has “A Deadly Assassin,” Ten has a few stories between companions (including his final stretch of specials,) and Eleven’s “Closing Time” comes after he’s taken Amy and Rory home for what he assumes is the last time.  But here, Clara isn’t gone, just absent.  It’s interesting to see the Doctor on his own in this capacity.

But anyway, on to the story.  At the end of “The Girl Who Died,” the Doctor’s efforts to save Ashildr/bring her back to life result in her having “lost the ability to die.”  She’s not indestructible, but she’s incredibly hardy and eternal youthful, and her longevity has given her ample time to hone every skill needed to keep her going.  So, she’s still very much alive when the Doctor accidently runs into her in the 17^th century, 800 years after he saved her.  Immortality hasn’t been kind to her – centuries of losing everyone she cares for she made her close herself off, her memory isn’t equipped to handle her unending life and she’s forgotten so much of who she once was, and over the years, she’s found Earth to be far too limiting for her.  As the Doctor faces the consequences of saving Ashildr, he tries to help her reconnect with her humanity and rediscover herself.

It’s not the first time the Doctor has been taken to task for making an impact on someone’s life and then not sticking around to deal with the fallout.  As such, that part isn’t as interesting, although Peter Capaldi plays the Doctor’s regret and compassion for Ashildr spectacularly.  However, I really, really love what this episode has to say about immortality.  Again, this is nothing new – it’s a topic the Doctor has wrestled with numerous times, not to mention Jack, and this is well-trod ground for many stories (Buffy is the first to come to mind) – but it’s done so well.  Ashildr’s characterization is richly complex, and Maisie Williams plays the full weight of her loss, ennui, and desensitization.  She’s stunning on her own, but pair her with the Doctor and it’s just amazing.  The Doctor is better equipped biologically for that kind of life, since his people are supposed to be long-lasting, but he’s been all but alone for ages now, and we again see signs that he isn’t quite sure about his second regeneration cycle.  While he doesn’t often wear this age on his sleeve, he lets the persona drop for Ashildr’s sake.  I don’t want to say that the Doctor isn’t genuinely energetic/enthusiastic/universe-loving/caring/curious/etc., because he is, but I think he sometimes uses all that to distract others (and himself) from everything he carries with him, and here, he reaches out beautifully to a person who hadn’t counted on being immortal, understanding her perspective but endeavoring to show her the importance of seeing the small picture.  The line, “I know their lives are short.  I understand.  But those lives do matter,” is just gorgeous and reminds me all over again how extraordinary the Doctor is, to see that and to remember that he needs “the mayflies” to keep him mindful of the value of life.

Hamilton (2015)

Okay, so Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote a new show, and it’s amazing.  Bar none.  Sooooo good.  And I got to see it!  Yep, just got back from NYC.  More reviews to come, but know that I went for the express purpose of seeing Hamilton.  Basically… (Homer Simpson salivation noise.)

Alexander Hamilton, one of the OGs of the American Revolution, accomplishes the incredible due to his skill with the written word.  Born poor and illegitimate in the Caribbean, he makes it to New York and hits the ground running.  Hamilton is armed with his passion, persistence, and clever/audacious verbosity, and he soon finds friends (like the Marquis de Lafayette,) mentors (George Washington,) rivals (Aaron Burr,) and opponents (like Thomas Jefferson.)  He throws himself into the revolution, and later, the forging of a new nation, with unquenchable tenacity.

The show is often described as a hip-hop musical, which is and isn’t true.  There’s lots of hip-hop, and more than that, hip-hop swagger – Hamilton’s verve and way with words earn him a spot as Washington’s right-hand man, but they also get him in tight spots with resentful rivals, especially when he can’t help speaking his mind.  That said, there are many genres here, such as R & B, jazz, and (care of King George III) the best song the Beatles never wrote.  And of course, it’s all knit together by Miranda’s phenomenal talent for Broadway composition.  It doesn’t sound like a Broadway person trying to imitate mainstream music or a mainstream-music person trying to mold Broadway around their songs.  It sounds like someone who loves and understands both worlds equally, and in his capable hands, it absolutely, no-question works on every level.

I love how the show’s blending of the periods – 18^th-century sets and costumes, 21^st-century music and choreography, vernacular from both – makes this history feel immediate and relevant.  Party conflicts in American politics haven’t changed much in 200+ years, the founding fathers were no strangers to smack talk or power plays, and the present day didn’t invent xenophobia.  When Hamilton and Jefferson debate economic policy via rap battle, it just fits.  I also love that the show is cast almost entirely with actors of color.  There’s something thrilling about seeing young Black, Latino, and Asian performers portray these old, dead, white giants of American history.  In a way, it’s about reclaiming that history (and really, the adjective “American”) for everyone:  “We’re all American; it’s our story, too.”  I think it’s fantastic that theatre allows for less skittishness on this front – yes, Broadway still has a depressingly long way to go with racial diversity, but how often can you see a Black man in Hollywood playing George Washington?

The cast, by the way, is tremendous.  Lin-Miranda was unfortunately out sick when I saw it onstage (his understudy is great, though,) but on the CD, he makes a stellar Hamilton – blunt, brilliant, and enthusiastic to a fault.  Christopher Jackson (Benny from In the Heights) is effortlessly dignified to Washington, Smash’s Leslie Odom Jr. is engrossing as Burr, and Jonathan Groff is a stitch as token-white-guy King George III.  For the actors I wasn’t familiar with, I’ll single out Renée Elise Goldsberry as Hamilton’s sister-in-law Angelica and Daveed Diggs pulling double duty as Lafayette and Jefferson, but really, everyone is excellent.

Warnings

Swearing, sexual content, violence, drinking, and thematic elements.

A Few Notes on Professor Flitwick (Harry Potter)

A curious thing happened in the Harry Potter films.  Between The Chamber of Secrets and The Goblet of Fire, Professor Flitwick essentially became a different person.  Not the same person played by a different actor, a la Dumbledore – Warwick Davis plays the character throughout – but, as you can see in the image above, one completely revamped to be utterly unrecognizable.

Apparently, it all started as a fluke.  After Flitwick made appearances in the first two Chris Columbus-directed films, the script for The Prisoner of Azkaban didn’t have anything for Flitwick, but Alfonso Cuarón still wanted Davis to be involved and came up with a cameo for him playing a different character, the Hogwarts music conductor.  Then, when Mike Newell came along to direct the fourth movie, he liked the look Cuarón had created for Davis’s conductor character so much that he kept it, morphing the conductor into a reimagined Flitwick.  There’s absolutely nothing onscreen to explain how this radical transformation happened.

As groundless as it is, I like it from a visual standpoint.  Yes, the books say that Flitwick’s small stature is probably due to having a bit of goblin blood, but he’s not really described as goblin-like in appearance, other than his size (after all, any goblin resemblance is slight enough that his heritage is a matter of speculation, not fact, so he must not look too gobliny.)  And really, I guess Flitwick 1.0 doesn’t really look like a goblin (when Davis pulls double duty as Griphook in the Deathly Hallows films, he looks totally different,) but he doesn’t really look like a person, either.  It’s not just the wizard robes – he looks nonhuman in a way that the other Hogwarts staff, even confirmed half-giant Hagrid, don’t.  I don’t like that; in my mind, it’s a bit of unnecessary othering that sets Flitwick apart beyond his size.  And come on, how often does Warwick Davis get to show his actual face onscreen?  I’d seen him in a ton of different movies before I connected that all these random “creatures” were played by the same guy that starred in Willow.

So, I love that the new Flitwick looks like he’s supposed to:  a tiny man.  Personally, I’d have added more overtly-wizard clothing to the more natural-looking hair, face, and glasses, because I think the pendulum might have swung a bit too far in the opposite direction.  I like him looking like a person, but he’s still a wizard, and the plain suits are a little “normal” for Hogwarts.

However, what I don’t like is the redrawn Flitwick’s actual role.  Once the professor merges with the conductor, the films show him almost exclusively in the context of music class.  Gone is the brainy charms instructor with enormous magical skill – in fact, we hardly see him performing magic at all.  Granted, this is in part due to the increased streamlining of the films.  A ton of classroom scenes are trimmed or cut, so there’s not much time for the professors to display their talent and impart their knowledge.  But other professors still get their magic on in incidental ways, like it’s McGonagall detransfiguring Malfoy or Dumbledore using his Pensieve.  Flitwick?  Mainly conducts music.  And that’s a bummer.  It was cool in The Sorcerer’s Stone to see a little person who, like his fellow professors, is a powerful wizard with skills to pass on to eager kids.  I love how the books paint him very much in the same light as the other professors, and one of my favorite book-Flitwick scenes is when he so easily takes care of an unruly charm that baffles Umbridge in The Order of the Phoenix.  That’s the Flitwick I like – quietly capable, super-smart, and a tiny bit snarky – and it’s too bad that he never really gets a chance to be that in the movies.

Top Five Roles: Benedict Cumberbatch

Another two-post day.  I am not good at remembering to update while I'm on vacation.

Why not?  It’s been a while since I’ve done a Top Five Roles post, and trendy fandom favorite or not, Benedict Cumberbatch is just crazy talented.  Even as I start this write-up, it occurs to me that I’ve never seen Cumberbatch doing Shakespeare and it might be wiser to hold off until after 1) Hamlet via National Theatre Live and 2) the BBC’s production of the Henry VI plays and Richard III, and that’s before you consider his entrance to the Avengers universe next year with Doctor Strange.  The point is, singling out five performances from Cumberbatch is only going to get harder, so I might do it while the getting’s good.

Vincent van Gogh, Van Gogh:  Painted with Words

Just a really lovely performance.  I love Vincent’s passion, his delight and ecstasy, and I feel for his despair.  Van Gogh was such a raw, beating-heart sort of artist – his joy and his despondency are equal and opposite forces in his life/work – that it’s hugely important to capture both, and Cumberbatch does it magnificently.

Captain Martin Crieff, Cabin Pressure

It’s too bad that this is the only explicitly-comedic character to make the list, because Cumberbatch does humor so well.  Martin, the easily agitated, wildly insecure, pathologically tight-wound pilot of the ragtag MJN Air, is straight-up hysterical.  He’s commits 100% to the most absurd of situations – too many to pick an all-out favorite, but “I don’t care how hypothetical it is, I’m not flying with a live otter in the flight deck!” is a darn good one.

Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock

Duh.  Let’s see, there are the rapid-fire deduction monologues that go a zillion miles an hour and yet are delivered in such a way that you actually understand the connections he’s made.  There’s his audacious indifference towards any and all social niceties.  There are the moments when the aloof armor cracks and we see how much he really needs people, or at least John.  Throw in a little maybe-aceness, and it’s a no-brainer.

The Creature, Frankenstein

Honest-to-goodness mesmerizing.  From his artless, shambling clumsiness to the childlike playfulness he maintains even in the darkest moments, this is such a fascinating performance.  I can’t tell you how much I love the scene in which the Creature confronts Frankenstein about creating and subsequently abandoning him.  Wow.

Christopher Tietjens, Parade’s End

Oh, good gracious, Christopher Tietjens.  A gift of a character and a master class in acting.  The combination between extremely soulful/sensitive and almost unshakably repressed lead to a man at war within himself.  His overwhelming emotions are always painfully evident, bubbling just under the mask he can’t bear to lift.  I mean… good gracious.