MOMA + Marionettes

I had visitors to the city over the weekend, so of course it was a Museum Saturday. Yay museums! Although it's always funny to me how everyone I know, without fail, ends up wanting to go to MOMA. I love MOMA, don't get me wrong. But with so many museums to choose from, I think it's interesting that my friends and fam are so consistent.

Unfortunately, we went a day too early for the new Tim Burton exhibit, so C. and I will have to go back soon. However, I loved seeing the Bauhaus exhibit, currently featured on the 6th floor. It was awesome. Bauhaus ("house of building") was a German school and style in the early 20th c. focused on a sort of blend between art and architecture. The pieces all feature both creative expression and ultra functionality, or some mixture of the two. Until this weekend, I actually had no idea how much we are experiencing a resurgence of this style today. I mean, we saw 90 yr. old furniture right out of this year's IKEA and CB2 catalogs, photography and sketch art right out of Anthropologie or Urban Outfitters. My favorite piece was a large "lighting tool," about 3 ft. tall, that looked like a giant cheese grater/execution block. It was actually a machine designed to spin and reflect light in interesting ways, to be captured on film. Crazy.

NOTE TO SELF: Bauhaus Chess set for C.'s next birthday.

All in all, I give the Bauhaus exhibit three sharp, sheet metal stacking tables up. Way to go, MOMA.

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I add this next bit only out of sheer compulsion: I should really say nothing about the marionettes. But alas, I can't have thrown away the evening for nothing.

After the museum and a hearty dinner, my guests and I went to see the Czech-American Marionette Theater at La Mama, a cute venue, after reading a nice review in the Times. We were excited, expecting something zany and impressive a la Being John Malkovich, but these expectations were far too high. Although endearing, the marionettes themselves turned out to look about 6 inches tall (officially I think they were 8), and we could barely see them. Tiny binoculars were passed out to amend this situation, but the theater wasn't prepared for the full house that a Times review brings, and we had to share them. The production was Twelfth Night, a play I love dearly but have seen a number of times (including just this summer in the park), and was performed by three people working various marionettes each. There was some sort of confusing cookware theme to the scenery, as the characters seemed to be shuffling about in frying pans and wielding utensils. In fact, Malvolio was actually locked away in a pasta container in the fourth act, rather than a dungeon. Two out of the three actors were pretty good, but the third, the original Czech puppetmaster, made no effort to change his voice from one character to the next, causing even more confusion. As I say, it was endearing and creative, and the puppetmasters were skillful and mostly adept at their renditions, but in the end it was pretty much a snooze. Too bad - I just wanted so much for it to be good!

All in all, I give the CAMT's production of Twelfth Night two minuscule, wooden thumbs down.

Almodovar

There are few things in life I enjoy more than a good movie marathon. As a kid, I had a habit of hosting awkward marathons in honor of small character actors (Austin Pendleton, Barry Gordon) and sometimes certain directors. Sadly, only my dad and I would attend these momentous occasions. *ahem* And although my tastes have transformed over the years, I still have a tendency toward movie-overkill. I was a freshman in college when I discovered Almodovar.

I kicked the obsession off with the cult classic, All About My Mother (everyone's favorite but mine), and in the course of about two months I watched every Almodovar film available at the UCSC Media Center, almost his entire canon. And that list is long, my friends. I relished every saucy character, every absurd plot, the kitschy set designs, the red red lipsticks, the slurred spanish, and the brash, unapologetic manner in which Almodovar heaves his indecency at his audience while deftly nurturing gut-wrenching vulnerability in every film. I was especially delighted by how much his earlier female characters irked me. Some are weak, some fiery, but all are emotional wrecks. They wear their bruised hearts on their sleeves, revealing this bizarre mixture of feminine vigor, explosive sexuality, self-destructive extremity, co-dependency, and above all, total dysfunction. Hyperbole? Absolutely not. I couldn't match the scope of their verve with words if I wanted to. Check out Gloria in What Have I Done to Deserve This?, or Marina in Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! Locas, totally locas.

Of course, what I also love about Almodovar is how much his work grows and changes. Although each film alone could inspire an entire doctoral thesis on anything from rape culture and mass media to sexual dysfunction and mourning, I can't help but feel that they are all little working parts of this big, juicy, pulsing organism that is constantly maturing. And my god, lately he is carving away the real meat of the thing. Talk to Her in '02, Bad Education in '04, and Volver in '06 reveal much more heart and soul than his previous work, the themes less melodramatic and more tragic, the characters richer. Penelope Cruz's powerhouse, Raimunda from Volver, is the most breathtaking female lead of the whole canon, indeed maybe EVER! Okay, that may be hyperbole. But I love, love, love her.

Anyway, this is my long-winded way of saying that I can't freaking wait to see the new Almodovar flick, Broken Embraces. It's already out in NYC and needless to say I'm coming undone over it. Marathon, anyone?