NOT Tony Soprano. Well…just for a moment.

Posted on October 28, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

Saw the very funny God of Carnage by Yasmina Reza (who I am insanely jealous of) with the dream cast of James Gandolfini, Marcia Gay Harden, Jeff Daniels and Hope Davis.

It opened back in March. Typically, a celebrity cast of this ilk would have bailed out by now because of other contractual commitments. But the four actors are having so much fun with their roles that they took August off and came back in September. It’s very unusual. They’re leaving for good in November so if you have half a mind to see it, you should do so before the new cast starts because who knows what’ll happen after that.

Marcia Gay Harden is the best. She transitioned nicely from quiet, caring Brooklyn liberal tree-hugger to raging lunatic. Gandolfini didn’t display a shred of Tony Soprano, which is a pretty neat trick considering that The Sopranos is steeped into my consciousness. There was a moment when he was yelling at Jeff Daniels and he poked his two fingers in Daniels’ direction. That simple gesture placed him firmly back in the New Jersey mob, but only for a split second.

[Note to Leah: This play is all about those annoying Park Slope yuppies and their nauseating perfect children. You and Sarge should see it.]

* * *

Scarlett Johansson is the latest movie actor who’ll try to establish some stage credibility. (Can Gwyneth Paltrow be far behind?) This winter, Liev Schreiber (who I saw perform in a revival of Eric Bogosian’s Talk Radio and doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone) and the lovely Ms. Johansson (Women hate her. I can’t imagine why.) will revive Arthur Miller’s A View From the Bridge. I’ve seen that play and it’s pretty rough stuff. Liev is a longshoreman. Scarlett is his young niece. He likes her in that special way. Much trouble ensues because, as you know, it’s not polite to seduce your niece.

Look! Up in the sky!

Posted on October 27, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

New Yorkers always have a bit of a chuckle at the tourists who walk about the city with their heads craned up. They fall off curbs and crash into lampposts and each other. But savvy New Yorkers know that the tourists are RIGHT! There’s a spectacular show going on up there. Some of the finest architectural flourishes in the city can be found above the 40th floor.

Case in point: Take a look at the crown of this art deco masterpiece. This building is elegantly described by my good friend Artisté Florenza on her blog and is the subject of one of her beautiful paintings.

This grandly embellished piece of architecture on the corner of 51st Street and Lexington Avenue in midtown was originally called the RCA Victor building when it went up in the ’30’s. The symbols and details on the crown of the building were inspired by radio waves and it is quite a site to see.

Is it a symptom of my advancing age to say they don’t design them with this depth of detail anymore? Click on this pic and take a good look at it. Can the polished surfaces of Frank Gehry compare to this? Nay, I say.

The Empire State Building, that Grand Old Dame of the city, has ornamental lighting that changes almost every night. Each color scheme is a commemoration or celebration. On October 19th, I was walking by after a meditation class and saw this mess!

I looked it up when I got home and apparently, these “Psychedelic Tie-Dye Colors” were in honor of the New York Historical Society’s Benefit for the Grateful Dead Exhibition and Archive. Are they running out of themes?

* * *

All the street corner fruit vendors in Manhattan call you either “boss” or “my friend.” I like it.

* * *

Cost to park in a garage on 89th Street off of Park Avenue for a bit over three hours to take The Daughter to The Metropolitan Museum of Art: $45.

Ouch. Just so you know. When you lay in a bed of roses, you’re going to get stuck with a few thorns.

The one where I curse out The New York Times

Posted on October 24, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

According to today’s New York Times:

American officials formally requested the extradition of Roman Polanski…over his flight in 1978 from sentencing for having sex with a 13-year old girl.

Listen, you bastards, Polanski did not “have sex” with that girl. He raped her. Actually, it’s worse than that. He drugged, and then sodomized her. A 13-year old child. “Having sex” implies consent and sanitizes what occurred. The Times refuses to call it what it is. If Polanski were an investment banker, they’d be screaming for justice from the lofty perch of the Editorial page.

And Woody Allan, of all people, should keep is fucking mouth shut. Another child molester. Takes one to know one, I suppose.

Weep not for me. Unless you really want to.

Posted on October 23, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

I’ve been having some black days, my friends. I don’t write about them because, honestly, my travails are so boring. I prefer to keep it light. Plus, feeling sorry for myself after reading some of Jimmy Bastard’s posts makes me feel like I’m missing a testicle. Or two. But suffering is relative and mine is very real to me.

Tonight, I took my sorry, troubled ass to Carnegie Hall for a piano recital. That probably sounds like a big bore fest to most of you, but it helps me. A lot. Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat and a piece by Brahms that was stolen from Handle. [Oh, excuse me, I mean Variations on a Theme. Yeah, right.] I’m a new man. It won’t last. It never does. But it’s a bridge to get me through to the next crisis. You do what you have to. It used to be weed, drunk driving and some unprotected sex. Now it’s piano recitals at Carnegie Hall. It sounds boring, but it isn’t.

If you live in New York City and don’t visit Carnegie Hall once or twice a year, you’re not taking advantage of something that’s unique about this old town. You can sit way up high for very little money (as I do). The acoustics are such that you can close your eyes and it sounds like your in the second row. And saying it’s a beautiful building is like saying water is wet.

I’ve never repeated a post before but this is one of my favorite New York stories and it all ties in. So this is for any readers I’ve picked up who might have missed it the first time.

* * *

In 1986, a renovation project was completed on Carnegie Hall. The acoustics of Carnegie Hall were something that musicologists and the city always took great pride in but, post-renovation, music purists insisted that the sound had somehow been compromised, particularly in the lower registers. There was a growing theory that a thin layer of concrete that hadn’t been there previously was installed under the stage floor. Officials involved with the renovation adamantly denied the existence of the concrete. They said the story was pure fiction and they dismissed the critics as conspiracy theorist crackpots.

Well, as usual, the crackpots were right. In 1996, Hall administrators announced that there WAS INDEED a heretofore unknown layer of concrete below the stage and it was removed. The reviews were unanimous. The Hall’s warm acoustics were returned to their original form.

Can you imagine!? I was amazed by that. At the end of a concert, someone turned to their date and said, “I enjoyed the adagio, but it sounds like they’ve mistakenly installed a thin layer of concrete under the stage.” I’ll never be that perceptive about anything.

NYC wildlife

Posted on October 21, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

Early one morning, I was walking past the Verizon store on 6th Avenue and 41st Street when a small brown dot in the bottom left corner of the window moved and caught my eye.

Upon closer examination, I could see that the tiny brown dot had fur and a tail.

It was a trapped little mouse! He somehow fell into a space whose walls were so high that he couldn’t extract himself. There was a Verizon service truck parked at the corner and the driver said he was going to free him as soon as the store opened. We can be benevolent towards mice but if it had been a trapped rat, the driver would have been waiting for the store to open so he could mash its head in with a tire iron.

* * *

Did you know that the sparrows in New York City are so tame that they’ll take food right out of your hand? Try doing this with a sparrow in your backyard and see how close you get.