Category: TV

Layer It On

by klgonnerman, posted in Movie, Theater, TV, Uncategorized

Art is a progressive act. No matter how angry or dark the subject, the act of creating and expressing is by nature optimistic, a call for connection and a search for understanding.

What’s especially exciting to me lately, then, is the layering of interpretations that can take place, as an original production gets remade, or dancers choreograph to a new song, or a book gets adapted for the screen. Expression on expression, the conversations between artists that span time periods, geographical space, and art forms.

One particularly entertaining example came last week, when U.S. figure skater Jason Brown performed to Hamilton’s The Room Where It Happened. Not only did he perform flawlessly for a full rink of fans, his performance made it to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s living room (Miranda wrote Hamilton). Surprise and delight travels well.

The other day I rewatched Joss Whedon’s version of Much Ado About Nothing, easily one of my favorite movies. Filmed in one house, over a weekend (so the legend goes), this production is visually gorgeous and also just the right combo of traditional and modern so that the audience will actually understand Shakespeare’s language. I repeat: when I watch this movie, I actually get what Shakespeare meant. The reinterpretation not only created a stunning production, but it also shone a light on Shakespeare’s timeless artistry. The layers work together to make both the original and the reinterpretation better.

Admittedly, maybe I’m thinking about layers so much simply because it’s freezing in New England and I’m wearing about twelve layers all the time. But I think it has more to do with the power that art provides for us to learn from one another and create in concert with those who came before and will come after us. A generational conversation about things that matter, in ways that we can understand.

Here’s the thing about interpretation, though: no one need wait to put their own spin on things. You do not need credentials to become part of the discussion (anyone who’s created dance routines to Whitney Houston can vouch for this). The discussion happens with every moment of appreciation and every act of production.

You are just as capable of interpreting the art that you see, of riffing off of a story that inspires you. As long as you are not ripping off someone else’s work, your engagement with the art is part of the process, and part of our progress as people.

For some people, engaging with art will inspire them to do something progressive in the political arena, to make phone calls to elected officials, volunteer in their community, or see someone’s experience a little differently. For others, it will inspire them to create more art.

Whatever your inspiration, whatever your medium, don’t shy away from engaging with the art around you. You just never know what it will inspire. Layer it on.

 

Space for Silence

by klgonnerman, posted in Theater, TV

I’ve had the privilege and punishment of taking in tons of art, news and commentary this week. The news has been devastating. Mind-numbingly, logic-defying, devastating news. Horrifying evidence of our systemic bias and the families it tragically affects, from the Philando Castile verdict that allowed a cop who shot an innocent man at point-blank range in front of his girlfriend and a four-year-old girl to go free, to the ACLU case in defense of Anthony Promvongsa, who was beaten by police, to Charleena Lyles, a pregnant woman killed by police in Seattle. Misconduct by Senators creating devastating legislation under wraps, only to reveal that their new health care bill will set us all back decades and threaten millions of lives.

So I’ve counteracted, as I do, with the arts.

I was fortunate to attend Fun House, an impressive musical about a lesbian girl and her family including her father who was also gay. The portrayal made all too clear what happens to our souls when we live in fear, in hiding, afraid of our very nature.

I listened to Stevie Wonder, I played my “FUN” playlist, I tracked Lin-Manuel Miranda’s upcoming star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

I binge-watched Queen Sugar, an absolutely artful TV series by Ava Duvernay and directed by a string of female directors.

Tonight, I need space for silence.

I rewatched a few episodes of Queen Sugar, and appreciated a nuance that a viewer pointed out: the masterful use of silence. The way that breath, space and honoring the beats in between create an even more powerful experience for an audience. It reminded me of my music studies, when we carefully honored every rest in the music with the same reverence as the note we sang.

Silence reminds us that we do not have to rush to make sense of the non-sensical. We do not have to hide from the rush of emotions that naturally accompany the topsy-turvy world we occupy. We do not have to avoid taking in the information, we do not have to shy away from educating ourselves.

We simply must make space for silence. To honor the spaces in between, to make time for our reactions, be they complex, overwhelming, or all of the above. To observe the silence between, to take stock of it, and to speak again when it’s time.

So here’s to space for silence, and to not shying away from the many situations in which we must raise our voices. We can’t have one without the other. Thanks, Queen Sugar, for the reminder of both.

 

 

 

Betwixt the Snow and Sleet, Stories

by klgonnerman, posted in TV

I’ve been working a lot lately. Like every other person in the world, when deadlines and obligations pile on, I tend to spend less time on the very thing that sustains me best: art.

I feel a bit like the Princess and the Pea, which doesn’t help. This show is too political to relax with. This movie is too violent. This music puts me right to sleep.

The one thing that’s just right? The show This is Us.

This is Us does exactly what storytelling should do. It takes Big Issues and weaves them into the lives of characters we care about. So we’re not longer dealing with Racism and Fat Phobia. We’re thinking about Randall’s experience with his neighbors, and Kate’s struggles to party without feeling shame. We’re thinking about how complex families are, and how sometimes even when we do our best, life has unintended consequences. We’re thinking about the precious moments we create that we often don’t realize are precious until they’re gone.

I mean, did you see their Thanksgiving episode?!? [I’m not even going to explain it. If you haven’t seen it, go watch it. If you have you’ll know how special their traditions are.]

Many people have told me how much they’ve cried while watching. Oddly, they say it with a smile. No objections from any viewer, so I have to assume it’s the good, cleansing kind of cry.

Even more odd, I haven’t cried yet, and I’m usually quite the crier.  I have, though, been moved emotionally. I’ve wanted to check in with those characters again and again. For February in Connecticut, that’s pretty impressive. [For those of you in sunny Los Angeles right now, it’s hard to *want* to do anything during February in New England. It’s the pits. Think June gloom, but all day and 70 degrees colder.]

The stories are getting me through, just like stories are meant to do. Because at the end of the day, we watch people saying This is Us (quirky and cooky and gloriously human as we are), and it makes it easier to respond with a resounding This is Me, Too. We see in these stories the reflection of ourselves in others and others in ourselves that reminds us we’re all connected, important, and valued. Isn’t that art at its best?

Layers, No Lines

by klgonnerman, posted in TV

Hip Hop Evolution on Netflix is worth a watch, whether you’re a hip hop fan or not. Since many of the greats are still alive, it’s a conversation between mentors and mentees, full of great storytelling, interesting people, and takeaways relevant to any kind of creative effort. The first episode left me with plenty to think about.

First, it’s  a story of innovation and inspiration. Each person gets asked where their inspiration sprouted from, and some of the answers are surprising. For example, have you ever heard of Pigmeat Markham? I hadn’t, but apparently he inspired DJ Hollywood, arguably one of the fathers of hip hop (emphasis on arguably, see point 2 below!). Inspiration is contagious, and it doesn’t matter what the subject. In times like these, we should all surround ourselves with stories of inspiration and innovation.

Second, it reminds me that no progression is linear in the real world. Hip hop history is full of contention, with different players identified as the most influential, different traditions being considered more fundamental to the evolution. Controversy means people care. It also belies the fact that innovation – whether in a musical tradition or in a tech company – never goes in a straight trajectory. Rather, progress happens like a series of small explosions. Most of the time, we don’t recognize them when they happen. When I’m discouraged, it’s important to remember that steps forward, back, and around are all part of progress.

Finally, the episode made me think of 8th grade earth science class and those striated rocks whose stripes each represent a layer of history. The hip hop tradition, as with many artistic traditions, seems like a striated rock, built over time and on the shoulders of those who came before them.

A single episode of TV filled me with inspiration, an appreciation for the unpredictable nature of progress, and a reminder of the importance of history and our mentors. And isn’t that what art is for?