Skip to main content

Three Popular Things to Dislike

(3) Ben Platt is getting plaudits for having released a new album, and for having "bravely" addressed his anxiety "in song." People swoon whenever someone owns up to having anxiety. Here's my problem with this. The "I own up to having anxiety" moment renders insignificant the question: Does this artist have anything new to say? You can't criticize the song, because that would be taken as an attack on a good guy! A guy who bravely admits he has anxiety!

I find Platt's new single "Ease My Mind" deeply boring and cliched. Here's the plot. Ben wakes up with nameless, sourceless anxiety all the time! It eats away at him! His life is difficult! But a hunky young man is really helpful. That hunky young man continuously appears in Platt's kitchen, and helps to "ease" Platt's "mind."

I think--if you're going to be banal--then just write about sex. Be raunchy and playful. Years before Platt, another Broadway star, Gavin Creel, released a pop album. (These pop albums rarely, if ever, go anywhere--because Broadway stars are not pop stars. But that's another subject.) Creel did *not* choose to sing, in a trite way, about his anxiety. Instead, he chose to sing, in a trite way, about his penis: "Come on and take my rocket ride! Feel you shiver when I quiver inside!" Nothing new--but so much more fun than Ben Platt's record. I'll choose Creel over Platt--any day.

(2) People seem to feel compelled to like "My Fair Lady" because it won a big Oscar and Audrey Hepburn and Julie Andrews and Shaw and yadda yadda yadda. I almost bought tickets to the current Benanti production, just because it seems so august and important and yadda yadda yadda. But then I admitted something to myself: I find "My Fair Lady" just a little bit insufferable. I do not identify with Eliza. To me, she's like the secretly hot girl in the teen movie who just needs to learn to take her hair out of a bun and stop wearing glasses....and then....look....SHE'S HOT! Who cares? And I think the writing is sort of covertly bland:

I could have danced all night!
I could have danced all night--and still have begged for more!
I could have spread my wings
And done a thousand things
I've never done before!

 "I could have danced all night"--a line so apparently fresh that Eliza needs to say it twice! And what are the thousand things that Eliza could have done? Isn't God in the details? Don't ask Lerner. Don't ask Loewe. Thank you, next!

(1) Did you really stay awake for "BlacKkKlansman" in its entirety? All of it? Did the writing not strike you as--just occasionally--maybe a little bit leaden and preachy? Did each major character really linger in your head for days thereafter? Be honest. Just a few questions. Enjoy the Oscars!
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more