Community Narrative Night at 222 in Healdsburg

Who comes out on a Sunday night during the NFL playoffs and the Golden Globes? Almost no one. The community narrative night, which is open mic and free to the public, offers the opportunity for writers to share their craft in an intimate setting. There were only four courageous souls who showed up to share for only two attentive audience members (myself included). One woman shared her writing of a contemplative hike she took through somewhat muddy and treacherous trails. "The wind swept the side of indeterminate distance that marked the curve - Every step must be taken carefully." I found the presenter an appealing raconteur with a melodic and expressive voice that was pleasing to the ear. Her syntax was simplistic,  "I look down, I look down. How much further to go?" She ran into some inclement weather although she found herself "a cozy spot, till it stops." But, perhaps that was more a metaphor for life as the next day she received news of a close friend in ICU in a coma. "Can I go on? Make it back? "

Another woman. Erin shared her affinity to caring for a black crow, Joey Crow, that she nursed back to health. Unfortunately, she wasn't as successful with other birds she took under her wing. Her grief with the bird who flew off, those never able to and the children she reckoned she would never have were inconsolable. "It's hard to love something knowing how much you need them." I found her reading very intimate and brave. 

A 60 something gentleman shared a writing on his lifelong desire to become an underwater photographer. His childhood ambition began as a fan of Lloyd Bridges' TV show from the 60s where he was a scuba diver. His childhood dream took a backseat to his teens but resurfaced in midlife with a wife and child and construction business. I found his traversing life and passion for tuba diving diverting and inspiring. I was taken aback by a harrowing experience on the beach where a man in scuba gear was rushed on shore and his instructor ran to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation until emergency workers took over. His instructor told him, "I hate sucking face with a deadman." 

Bravo to all those who shared and the two (one is me) who cared to listen.

ONCE UPON a MATTRESS with Sutton Foster-The Show that Should R.I.P,

Sutton Foster is your triple threat theatrical star who can sing, dance and act to some degree but she is not reason enough to sit through this tired, silly musical whose appeal has long since dried up. I saw this show at the Ahmanson Theater in Los Angeles at it's closing Thursday matinee performance. Matinees typically bring out the grey haired set and perhaps the precocious preteen theater kids and this matinee's demographics leaned heavily to both ends; over 75 and under 12. For the minority of attendees in the majority age range, it was a tedious musical to wallow through with little to do but grin and bear it. The talents of Foster in the lead as the likable, laughable Princess Winnifred wishing to marry Prince Dauntless (Michael Urie, "Shrinking") were well cast but alas, they were not able to breath life into this dated show derived from a Hans Christian Anderson tale. This Anderson tale had appeal only for the fairytale fan club. The original music for the Broadway production which opened back in 1959 was by Mary Rodgers, the daughter of legendary composer Richard Rodgers. It did not need to be revived for Broadway or any other large scale theatrical release. The campiness, cartoonish characters and slapstick humor were all long in the tooth and short on charm. The Queen (Ana Gasteyer,  former SNL cast member) makes those wishing to marry her son pass impossible tasks thereby holding onto her reign of her kingdom. The humor is inane throughout. The childlike King is mute due to a wicked spell. He tries to explain the birds and bees in a ridiculous pantomime to his dolt of a son. The other parallel love story between a nitwit knight and a lady in waiting, waiting to marry him, belabors the moronic storytelling. Watching ONCE UPON a MATTRESS was onerous for most of us who attend the theater intending to be entertained.