You know its Spring ...
When you see the first double-dutchers out on the street.
A fortuitous e-mail brought me and M to a matinee of Lisa Kron's Well, where, after spotting the undaunted Rosie O'Donnell settling into her seat, we turned our attention to a play we had seen once before, in 2004, at the Public Theater.
Not being a theater queen, I rarely do go see anything twice, and M and I rarely agree on much in terms of art, music, or especially theater. So we were somewhat surprised to find ourselves both rapt again, finding the performance about Kron's misguided effort to theatricalize and thereby rationalize the long-term illness of her mother, as Sondre Lerche might say, "effortlessly flabbergasting."
Now Playing: Sondre Lerche, The Duper Sessions. Just go out and buy it, already.
MM snuck us into the sold-out screening of the Sundance winner Quinceanera last night, an enjoyable if guilt-inducing romp through the culture clash between established Chicano and incoming whites in rapidly gentrifying Echo Park, LA. We were left reeling from the infinite ironic loop of a film made by gay hipster yuppie scum critiquing gay hipster yuppie scum, all the while being ourselves gay hipster yuppie scum. Talk about fear and loathing.
Leave it to Anderson Cooper to combine serious issue journalism with utter inanity so seamlessly.