The screening of Georgy Girl in my British New Wave series at Doc Films this quarter has been cursed with audio problems. The failure of an amp in the cinema forced us to cancel the initial screening. Last night, our make-up screening caused a moment of panic when we started playing the first reel and discovered that the soundtrack was physically missing from the print. We weren't sure if it was missing from just a portion of the reel, or if the whole first 20 minutes would have to be projected silently. Fortunately, as we let it run, we found that only the opening credits sequence (and later the closing credits) were silent.
This means, however, that we missed out on hearing the hit title song by The Seekers, a folk-pop group from Australia that were hugely popular for a while in the '60s. They coincided and were sometimes associated with the British Invasion, but sound more like an updated but less politically conscious version of The Weavers, along the lines of similar American groups like We Five and The Stone Poneys. "Georgy Girl" was their biggest hit in America, peaking at #2 on February 4, 1967, with "I'm a Believer" by The Monkees keeping it from the top. The music was written by Tom Springfield, brother of Dusty, and the lyrics were actually by the actor Jim Dale, best known for the Carry On films and for his really remarkable work on the Harry Potter audiobooks. Since it wasn't in the screening last night, here it is now:
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
There is a commercial where an incredibly smug man brags about knowing exactly what he wants to order at the Olive Garden without even having to consult a menu.
Okay. Let's try this blog thing again. Sorry folks. Here's something I was writing back in November. Not exactly timely anymore, and maybe it's stupid, but whatevs. Something to get back me back in gear.
As you've all heard, it's the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street, a show very dear to my heart, as it is toward many many people around the world. So naturally, I need to take this opportunity to be a grouch.
Perhaps you have not seen the show in ten+ years. Well, I have, and I am sorry to have to report: Sesame Street is a mere shadow of its former self.
Sesame Street is probably the single most influential children's television show of all time, with its impact spreading out internationally. It is the landmark kids' show that all others look toward. So why oh why, Sesame Workshop (née Children's Television Workshop), do you feel so insecure about your own relevance that you feel compelled to "keep up" with the changes in children's programming you perceive happening around you?
So what am I talking about? What happened?
Well, a lot of things. One you can't really blame anyone for, which is the loss of key personnel. Obviously, no one could ever really fill Jim Henson's shoes after his death - though to their credit, I think the staff did a tremendous job for a long time. Henson passed when I was four years old, so right in the middle of my prime Sesame Street viewing period, and I certainly didn't detect any drop in quality at the time. Frank Oz has moved on to bigger things, which is his right, only stopping by about once a year to tape new segments. I have no doubt that there are still talented writers and performers on the show, but it's still a legacy show. They just can't possibly share that same energy among that magical group of individuals who made the show so exciting back in 1969, anymore than the current writers of, say, a comic strip like Gasoline Alley can never hope to imitate Frank King's gentle charm.
The music has also suffered. I don't think there's anything offensively awful about the songs produced on the show now. But they are not Joe Raposo. They are not Jeff Moss. When was the last time the show produced something as infectious as "Rubber Duckie?" As devastating as "Somebody Come and Play?" As danceable as "A New Way to Walk?" As melancholy as "I Don't Want to Live on the Moon?" The era of classic songs is over, I'm afraid.
But if there's one simple turning point to mark where the series went downhill, it's Elmopocalypse. Elmo is perhaps too easy of a scapemonster. But I think perhaps in this case it's warranted. Now I think Elmo is cute. I think Elmo is a fine character to have in their repertory. But all of a sudden, Children's Television Workshop discovered that some people reaaaaaaaaally liked Elmo. And they spent a whole lot of money on Elmo merchandise. Remember the Tickle Me Elmo insanity of 1997? Since then, Sesame Street has become The Elmo Show. Almost literally. If you haven't watched the show recently, you might be shocked to find that Elmo has his own 15-minute segment in every single episode, called "Elmo's World." And all this comes at the expense of so many other great characters who now struggle for screen time, like Cookie Monster, Prairie Dawn, and my spirit animal - Grover.
That's not the only change in format they've tried. In 2002, at the height of the popularity of Blue's Clues, Sesame Street introduced another weekly segment, a blatant rip-off called "Journey to Ernie" where viewers were asked to help find Ernie in a CGI landscape. Sesame Workshop was also duped into the (highly profitable) scam perpetrated by Teletubbies and Baby Einstein, creating television for infants despite a total lack of evidence that it benefits them in any way, or that they even have any idea what the hell is going on with that box emitting light. But the market demanded it, as parents now need technology as a substitute for babysitting and parenting even sooner, apparently, and so - Sesame Beginnings.
I suppose it's logical to some degree that the show would become so obsessed with following market trends. Sesame Street's success was largely due to an innovative approach co-opting the techniques of the advertising world to teach the basics of reading and counting. Each episode famously has a pair of sponsors - one letter and one number - which each show up in brief short films that appear as commercial breaks in between narrative segments. These slots also allowed for charming segments with some of those other wonderful characters, and for trippier animations which served for millions of children as their introduction to Philip Glass.
But now, there's less and less time for any of that. There's also just less Sesame Street in general. Up until 1998, 130 episodes of the show were produced each season. And last year, in Season 39? A grand total of 26.
As much as I'd like to, I'm not able to spend a ton of time watching daytime children's programming these days, so I can't say with certainty that there aren't new worthwhile shows on TV now. But I haven't seen or heard of any. I find it hard to imagine something new coming in to adequately fill the holes that the diminishing value of Sesame Street and the loss of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (which I've spoken about before) leave. I find it hard to envision some sort of 21st century internet-based children's educational programming revival, either. These shows, in their prime, I think really represented the pinnacle of television's use as a medium. They offered a regular solace to children that they knew they could always count on. You don't know how much comfort I took knowing that I'd be able to enter that world every morning at 10 a.m. When I was living abroad as a child, I had so much separation anxiety from American children's television that I had my grandparents tape weeks worth of Mister Rogers and Sesame Street and ship it over to me, which I would watch over and over again.
I'm running out of steam here, so I'll just end with the most perfect moment in the history of the show:
One of my favorite subgenres of teen pop/teen movies of the '50s and '60s are the feeble attempts to force kids into adopting new crazes. In trying to mimic the success of "The Twist" and "The Loco-Motion," most of the pop songs had accompanying dances. The songs are always kind of pushy, because instead of simply introducing the new dance, they instead declare that the dances are already the next big thing that all the kids are doing. It's interesting also how much the songs must have depended on television appearances to ensure their popularity (though I guess I don't actually know what the "Loco-Motion" dance is). The teen films tended to exploit familiar fads (surfing, dragracing etc.), while also branching out to new ones. The Frankie & Annette Beach Party series was really good at this: Beach Blanket Bingo was all about skydiving, Muscle Beach Party had bodybuilding, and Pajama Party was about, uhh, pajamas.
There are countless examples of these, but I've been recently introduced to a couple really bizarre ones that I like a lot. One is the 1957 film Bop Girl Goes Calypso, which is about how a scientist with some fancy machine is "proving" that rock 'n' roll is on the way out, predicting that calypso will be the big new craze! There were a few films that came out at this time all with the same hypothesis, including Calypso Heat Wave which features Maya Angelou(!)
And in the music realm, how about this great song performed by Eddie Hodges, the child star best known as Huck Finn in the 1960 adaptation directed by Michael Curtiz? "Mugmates" suggests that what "everyone does" now to indicate they are going steady, instead of giving someone their pin, is simply have... matching coffee mugs.
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
Oh man. My friends continue to be involved in plays that offer critics the opportunity to write the best reviews ever. Here's Chris Jones's review in the Trib of a production two of my friends are in, G.I.F.T. at Collaboraction (which, admittedly, does put on some fine work also):
Collaboraction and the G.I.F.T. that keeps on taking
There is much computer-aided mumbling about present-giving in "G.I.F.T.," Collaboraction's typically ambitious seasonal offering performed, both indoors and outdoors, in a 7,000-square-foot warehouse space at Firehouse Square on Chicago's West Side. But the greatest gift of all arrives when a big overhead door whirs and opens, revealing that this insufferable show is over.
Actually, not quite over. "G.I.F.T." ends around a big outdoor bonfire. But some communing around flames is, compared with what has gone before, positively cathartic.
Collaboraction, which long has favored experimental performances in a variety of urban spaces, always has had a high failure rate. So it goes when you try to do something different. But "G.I.F.T." is surely the worst thing the theater has produced in its 13 years of existence. This piece is so grim, you keep waiting for the actors (who are dressed as slightly funky Pilgrims) to step out of their stark, computer-aided environment (they work in front of projected text) and declare the whole enterprise an elaborate, "Waiting for Guffman"-style parody of bad performance art. Sadly, that moment never arrives.
In essence, this piece (designed and directed by Sam Porretta) is a study of the nature of gifts. It begins in a little interactive chamber, where patrons and performers exchange objects of unfathomable definition and viewers are asked to visit little grottoes, wherein meek performers (apparently) try to discern your emotions and reveal your stories. Yes, you pay them for this stuff. They don't pay you.
From there, you head to the main performance space, where these actors engage in a deadly dull series of exercises about what gifting means. It is as if one has happened upon freshmen at a theater school improvising on a teacher's truisms. We arrive at such staggering conclusions as gifting means more than materialism.
Yes, the holidays are more than a new blender. Now you don't have to waste an evening.
There is, I suppose, a certain trippy quality to the proceedings. And the building (an old firehouse) is a beautiful, atmospheric space. Thankfully, there is a bar. If you find yourself dragged to this show, I suggest plunking yourself there until you hear the lick of the flames of freedom.
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
Beulah - Emma Blowgun's Last Stand [mp3] (at 2:25)
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
More than a month ago, the city of Chicago tore up every street around my house so they could resurface them. On day one, they screwed up and broke the water main under my block. Though they've since repaved most of the other blocks around my house, the cryptic letter they left us said that ours won't be finished until "sometime in 2010."
In the meantime, we're left with this sign that fails to use either of the two acceptable spellings of "thru."
Recent Posts:
Recent Posts: