X Witch

I went to go see this Broadway musical called Wicked (after which I was able to touch a New Kid’s butt), which was pretty good (not great), but had a striking parallel to the things that bring us all here.

You see, Wicked is the story of a young woman who, because of a strange formula imbibed by her parents, is born with bright green skin. Because of her unusual appearance, she is treated badly by everyone around her, and grows up a little resentful and moody. So moody, in fact, that when she loses her temper things occasionally explode or fly in all directions. She is taken under the wing of a teacher who recognizes her innate talents. She eventually befriends some fellow students as she harnesses her power and begins to use it fight for the rights of other outcasts (usually of the talking animal variety). Soon, a despotic government that wants to control her and her power finds her unwilling to be its pawn, and the populace is turned against her. The people grow to fear and hate her, and try to hunt her down. She continues to use her powers to help others who have been similarly mistreated, but all her efforts are seen as nothing but more wickedness. Many adventures later, she is forced to fake her own death and go into hiding with the man she loves, who had been turned into sentient plant matter earlier in the story.

Sound familiar? Like maybe something out of a familiar franchise? Actually it’s a retconned version of a totally different kind of classic. Who knew the wonderful world of Oz was so much like Salem Center?

Brush With Stardom

JoeyI brushed a New Kid’s butt today. Well, not really, but I at least had an arm around his waist while posing for a picture, with a bit of a quick brush of the fingertips across the rump. When all was said and done, who knew little Joey would turn out to be the handsome and talented one?

My old pal Matt breezed into town today with his sisters, 4 tickets to Wicked, and a chance to get a backstage tour and a quick introduction to Joey and anyone else who might be around. As it turns out, the young Mr. McIntyre is awfully pleasant (and pretty hot) in person, and I honestly didn’t realize he could carry a tune that well. I always feel a little awkward in those meet-and-greet moments: obviously he was just being friendly to another random group of strangers, so I didn’t know whether it would actually be intrusive or not to make polite chatter while hanging around. To everyone’s credit, they were good show people who handle the public gracefully. When the schmoozinng was done, we sent out the stage door and into the midst of a crowd of adoring fans. For a moment, I entertained the fantasy that I was the cutest, most popular blogger on earth and they were all screaming for me, not the glimpse of the actors behind me.

Sparky on the Yellow Brick RoadJoey led us on a quick tour of the stage, which was pretty groovy. The sets and such for Wicked are…well…pretty wicked awesome, and I always get a kick out of seeing how all the props and set pieces get tucked away when not in use. I’ve been backstage at plenty of theaters of one size or another over the years, and I always love that look at everything when the lights are off and the scuffs and the illusions are exposed. If anything, it makes me appreciate the final effect of the shows that much more.

I’ll admit, I was pretty skeptical about Wicked after the snippets I’d seen and heard, but I was pretty charmed by the whole thing. The music isn’t great but it has a bunch of really nice pieces. I actually think I’d like more of it if the whole scale of a Broadway show didn’t require so many microphones on everyone: so much of the sound levels flatten out that a big moment is often as loud as a soft one, and in big group numbers you don’t have enough natual acoustic cues to help you decipher what sound is coming from where. It drives me pretty damn crazy, actually, and makes me appreciate good, unamplified performance that much more. But the whole show doesn’t suffer just because of a pet peeve or two of ime: it’s a smart story, told with some excellent performances and stagecraft.

Joey

Goddess of Truth

It sure isn't Bella AbzugIn case you hadn’t noticed, lately I’ve been on a classic-heroines kick. While stuck in bed with a bad cold a couple of weekends ago, I was hunting down a few images for something I wanted to write about Spider-Woman, and then one thing led to another and I eventually bought a huge pile of old comics off eBay. Since I was following a train of thought, they all fell into a similar category: ass-kicking women I loved as a kid. (Plus some crazy, gorgeous Jack Kirby stuff, but I’ll save that for another time.)

Luckily, there is much to love in all those old issues. For all my nostalgia about the comics I grew up with, I’m the first to admit that re-reading them often makes me want to scratch my eyes out. The writing and the artwork and the production of modern comics is usually so sophisticated compared to last century that it can be tough to put yourself back in ther mind-set of what made those older stories so magical. It turns out, though, that those early Dazzler issues had great art by John Romita, Jr., and John Byrne hadn’t spiralled into total megalomania yet and Wonder Woman still had a fun contrast of 70s feminism and the timeless objectfication of hot chicks.

I’ve really been most surprised by the pre-Crisis Wonder Woman stuff. There’s plenty of the goofiness that came with decades of accumulated plot developments: the Amazons with their advanced spacecrafts and magic bracelets, the invisible robot plane controlled by WW’s tiara, the Greek gods dressing pretty much like golden-age superheroes. I expected (and looked forward to) all that, but I guess all the traces of feminism and radical politics and anger-at-man’s-world stuff mostly flew past me when I was young. Check out this sequence from Wonder Woman #263 (January, 1980):

One is probed and prodded Privacy is a thing of the past
Today they probe our bags and clothes Tomorrow will they probe our minds?

All this, of course, is forgotten once Wonder Woman has to battle “The Gaucho, A Real Man!” from the Argentinian pampas who looks like an escapee from Epcot Center and rides a horse with rocket hooves.

Diana Prince, Fag Hag

In an apartment building in Greenwich VillageOK, picture it. It’s 1979 and you’re living in pre-Crisis Greenwich Village. You’re a dancer who is, perhaps, a little light in the loafers. Oh, surely no one knows for sure, but there’s something in the way you wear those purple slacks and those neck chains with such flair. Your boyf…er, your “roommate,” Thomas, notices that you have a new neighbor. She’s tall, athletic, and has a gorgeous head of hair like some kind of Greek goddess or something. It’s a shame she wears those dowdy glasses and seems to lose her temper if she can’t find those clunky wristbands of hers, but clearly she has some pizazz. What, she used to be a NASA astronaut trainee but just moved back to New York for some glamorous job at the U.N.? Girl, don’t tell me that bitch has brains as well as a body like that! And single? Jackpot!

Now, how hard would this rock? Wouldn’t you want to lure her into your web of fabulousness and make her your new best friend? Seriously — everyone knows what Thomas is up to when he goes for those “walks” down by the piers, so why shouldn’t you find yourself some sassy lassy to gossip with when you go for a cocktail? Those other queens will be so jealous they’ll scratch your eyes out when you waltz into Studio 54 with this glamazon on your arm! If only she weren’t always disappearing when you least expect it. Doesn’t she know hard many twinky chorus boys you had to flirt with to get those tickets to “A Chorus Line”?

In an apartment building in Greenwich Village

(This moment between Diana and Lance taken from Wonder Woman #260, 1979)

Weekly Round-Up

Identity Crisis #7Wednesday, of course, is new-comic day, and an opportunity for me to rattle off some pithy quickies instead of strain myself by trying to articulate anything insightful:

  • Identity Crisis #7 (of 7): Meh. At least this one had a cover I really liked. This series started off with a pretty powerful emotional kick, but just couldn’t hold its momentum across all these months. It might work better as a trade, but I tried rereading a few issues in a batch, and I couldn’t get through it without wondering about if it was gonna rain the next day or do we have any cake or is there some Gilmore Girls on the Tivo or something. For a big finale, this wrapped things up tidily, but it’s hard to care. Especially when they reveal the killer right at the beginnning and then follow it with blah blah blah blah blah. Oh well. I bought them all, so I guess DC’s fiendish plan worked in the end.
  • Ex Machina #7: Ah, such bliss. I love this book more and more every month, and that’s after I started loving it completely when I read the first issue. I love the overall concept, I love how the characters are written so well, and I really want to see where they go with the new twists they’re adding to the story now. Just brilliant.
  • Space Ghost #1: Ooooh, pretty! Oooooh, not so much fun. If they were gonna make Space Ghost all serious science fiction, I would have preferred the more inventive touch of Warren Ellis or someone.
  • Birds of Prey #77: This is another series I wish I’d discovered much, much earlier. It’s really wonderful. That being said, this issue was a little weak, but I think they’re just getting going with a different story arc, so we’ll see. Like Joss Whedon, Gail Simone doesn’t go too crazy with the plot devices (even though lots of good ideas come into play), instead getting most of the power of each issue from the development of the main characters. That aspect doesn’t taper off, even when the action part of the story doesn’t kick in so much.

And since the subject came up again recently, I finally bought the first trade collection of Alias, and I feel like a goddam idiot for not paying more attention to it when it was underway. Incredible! Totally, totally incredible. I’m actually really glad that Bendis didn’t intend to use Jessica Drew for the main character (as is often thought), because I wouldn’t want her taken in this direction, but I think it’s even more brilliant for developing a brand new character as if she were an embittered has-been. It’s a great story, and surprisingly emotionally resonant. And just funny enough just often enough to keep it really punchy between the grim parts. And don’t even get me started on how gorgeous all the covers (by “total snack” David Mack) were. I kinda noticed those right before the series ended, when I decided not to get involved so far into a story. Now, of course, I have to get them all. Curses!

Kiki and Herb Died for Us

Did anybody else get their 2-CD set of the Kiki and Herb Carnegie Hall Show yet? I just ripped open the package and threw it on, and it’s amazing! I’m quivering in delight. I’ve been anxiously awaiting it — especially since I kept running into its producer, who kept giving me updates, and one day even taunted me with the knowledge that he was carrying the only master copy in his bag at that moment. Jerk.

But he was right, it turned out really well, and it was a great decision to turn the microphones on the crowd a lot. I’ve never heard a live recording that quite captures the thunder of an adoring, devoted crowd quite like this. If you were there, you might feel chills all over again. If you weren’t there, you’ll wish you were. If you don’t get it, you probably never will.

But here’s a taste:

Total Eclipse of the Heart — Kiki and Herb, Live at Carnegie Hall, September 19, 2004

Wundagore Woman

Spider-WomanMy discovery of the Dazzler collection distracted me from the post I had originally been writing in praise of Spider-Woman, who ranks up there with my beloved Kitty Pryde as perhaps my favorite all-time comic-book character ever. It pleases me mightily to see her show up in so many comments about beloved, overlooked heroines of the Bronze Age.

There’s more than a touch of nostalgia to my love for Spider-Woman, since I haven’t seen much of her since the end of her own series back in 1983. (Yes, I loved her before I became distracted by puberty, New Wave, and skater boys.) From what I’ve unearthed about her subsequent appearances, she hasn’t quite had the modern redemption that Kitty has had in the last few years (aside from a few appearances in Alias, from what I hear), really fleshing her out as a substantial character apart from the original gimmicks. I’m hoping that Brian Michael Bendis finally gives her some juicy storylines once the New Avengers gets underway.

In fact, she’s the only reason I’m really ging the New Avengers a chance, what with the way my whole excitement for them was crushed by the gigantic mess of the Avengers Disassembled arc. Did any of you read that? What a mess, and the start of the new series only showed the tiniest bit of promise. But I like Bendis a lot, and he seems to pulled together characters he already cares about, so maybe he will make me proud with his handling of Spider-Woman. Hell, I don’t even know if she still wears the same costume, so even that detail would make me happy.

Even though she has mostly been developed as an independent character, I always felt a little bad that she got a lot of her big breaks because of the tangential relationship to Spider-Man (in name and basic concept, but that’s about it). Her own book and the cartoon series never really took off, and I always suspected that the reason had a lot to do with people discovering how little she actually had to do with the web crawler, and then wondering what her deal was. I was never disappointed, though. She has a backstory with plenty to offer on its own: mutated, aged in suspended animation (much like a fine cheese), raised by a talking humanoid cow, HYDRA agent, private eye, girlfriend of the ghost of an Arthurian wizard. We should all have such a colorful background!

Personally, I’d just like the healing ability. Or maybe the venom blasts, in case someone badgers me on a grumpy day.

Happy Goddamn Holidays.

Happy Goddamn Holidays.
Hey, kids, sick of the holiday craziness? Worn out from facing the horror of last-minute shopping when you’re already burnt out from work? Dreading another get-together with that branch of the family you never liked? Allergic to egg nog? Sick of hauling out the holly or listening to the Dreidel Song? Of course you are!

That’s why you should be sure to get down to P.S. 122 on Tuesday night for Happy Goddamn Holidays. — a Very Musical WYSIWYG. All musical acts, all-fun, all exactly what you need to make through to the end of the season without a meltdown!