Finding the will…

Hey, readers. Sorry it’s been a month. I haven’t forgotten about you guys at all, I swear. It’s been a bad month, mental health-wise, is all. Between living in COVID central (wear a goddamn mask, folks) and it being as hot as three hot pockets and a Mickey Ds apple pie straight from the microwave outside, I’ve been trapped inside a whole hell of a lot without surcease. There was a flurry of activity in late May/early June that included putting up shelves and finally (!) setting up a writing station for me in the apartment so the other half can work from home, but after that…

Nope. Nothing. Except existential loneliness and the incessant whining of my cats, things have been kinda… dead around here. Great for someone with anxiety and depression problems, right?


The other half has been learning CAD? I think. Computer stuff is basically Sumerian to be, only not as cool because I’d love to learn Sumerian and freak out assholes who insist I say Merry Christmas even though there are several holidays around that time of the year. Yeah, I’ve got a perverse sort of humor like that. Plus, Sumerian is an isolate language, which is super interesting, and following the way it married into other languages of the area, including Hebrew, would be super exciting for me. Alas, I’m not sure Learn Ancient Sumerian is included in the Great Courses Plus.

OK, full disclosure, I haven’t looked yet. I’m afraid I’d rack up some Sisyphean credit card bill if I were allowed access to that site, so I’ve mostly been avoiding it. But if the depressive spiral I’m on lately doesn’t quit, I might have to dive in… with a strict budget overseen by the other half. When it comes to stuff like that, I’m like shoe people. You know the ones. Seriously. Go find some shoe people and say something disparaging about, uh, Jordans? I don’t know. What are the cool kids buying these days?

I’m almost done editing Mercutio. As if now, between the various edits A and I have done, over 50,000 words have been removed from this behemoth, and it’s finally below 110k. I have gotten rid of some stuff I desperately love, but I’m willing to get rid of it if it makes the novel the best it can be. Also, so agents will, you know, take a chance on it. As much my work is precious, I’m not precious about it. If that makes sense.

Finally got all the feedback for Liar, so I should be diving into that soon. Thankfully, I don’t think it’ll need the work Merc does. It’s tighter as it is, and already well within the norm for SFF word counts. I’m really, genuinely unable to do anything but editing right now because it’s the only thing that doesn’t leave me absolutely knackered after twenty minutes. Not a great place for a writer to be, but that’s the reality for some of us sometimes, you know?

You heard it here, folks. Don’t ask when a writer will be done with their book or comment on how easy it is to write one. It’s very, very annoying, and there’s no guarantee said writer won’t murder you. In their book, of course. Though if there’s any group of people who could get away with murder, it’s writers. Trust me.

Anyway, that’s it for me here, readers. Please wear a mask. Stay safe. Don’t be an asshole. And check out your people. Especially the ones with mental health issues. And the extroverts. Make sure they’re OK. I can only imagine how much worse off I’d be if I actually liked being around people for long stretches of time.




Summer. Why is it here?

Hi, guys! You might have noticed I disappeared for three weeks this time. I was super serial about that thing where I’d only write when I had something to say. This time, though, it was more that I had too much to say, but I wasn’t the person to say it. If I had a platform at all, I would have used it, but I don’t, so it would have been a white woman shouting into the void about things that aren’t any of her business. Let’s just say Black Lives Matter, and if you don’t agree, you can fuck right off.

So, I just wanted to talk about how much summer sucks here in Florida. The temperatures might say the high 80s, but it’ll really be in the 90s or even the 100s because of the humidity and whatnot. (Which of course means that all those protesters really need to take care of themselves, and the cops should maybe stop making it worse by acting like they’re at fucking war with the people they’re meant to serve and protect.) It really gets to you. What is this pleasant summer people talk about, you know? For us, it’s hurricanes and sweat rashes and the oh-so-pleasant smell of mosquito repellent (or a gazillion bites). I’ve literally never understood the whole, “Florida has such great weather year-round” thing people talk about. Like, did you know part of the selling point for Disney World’s Orlando location was the weather?!


Some people are insane. Truly.

I’ll bring this around to writing now. Since that’s sort of meant to be my thing. And, honestly, I’m pretty damn good at making things link up. That’s part of the history degree. Or maybe it’s just a natural gift of mine. I did kiss the Blarney Stone when I was fifteen, so that might be a factor. Anyway…

PLEASE STOP WRITING THINGS SET IN FLORIDA WHERE EVERYONE IS EITHER SOME GLAMOROUS BEACH PERSON WITH TANNED SKIN AND A BOAT OR A GODDAMN METH ADDICT ‘FLORIDA MAN’ SITUATION. And I’m looking at you, especially, TV. Seriously. Check it out. Florida is either South Beach or still living in the Confederacy. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are parts of Florida that are exactly like that (drive up 75 through Tampa and there is literally a giant fucking “Confederate” flag ((it was never actually the flag of the Confederacy, but you know what I mean)) flying on the side of the road), but it’s… more than that.

Places aren’t stereotypes more than anything else. We’re always warned away from creating characters that are stereotypes, but we’re willing to do the same thing for places? Stop that. STOP IT. I hate Florida with every fiber of my being, but I hate having it whittled down to idiot tourists, old people, beach bunnies, and rednecks. I hate it because that’s not actually what Florida is. Jokes are fine, but I’m afraid people have really taken it to heart and decided that’s Florida. And it isn’t.

Stop dealing with stereotypes. In characters. In places. In everything. It’s fucking annoying.

Oh, and, just in case you forgot from the beginning, Black Lives Matter. If you don’t agree, fuck off.


Boozy Books: Because You’ll Need Booze For This One

Welcome back, readers! As you can see, I have not abandoned you. After we went two weeks without posting, you probably assumed we had fallen off the face of the internet again. Nope! I’m still here, and I still think enough of myself that I’m willing to paste my thoughts on the internet. Or something to that effect, I guess.

I mentioned last time that posts wouldn’t be as regular as they were before. That’s because I don’t want to get myself set up to fail again, forcing myself to churn something out even if I really have nothing to say. But I’ve spent the last couple of weeks reading a book that… well, let’s just say, even needed a drink. That’s not bad thing, by the way. The book is engrossing, well-researched, and definitely not as dry as many of the history books I’ve had to read over the years. It’s just the subject matter.

If you’re like me, you’ve read the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. You may even have watched the show (which, fun fact, was more about Michael Landon’s chest and bottom than anything else). This paean to American ruggedness and self-sufficiency and never giving up no matter how bad things get is sort of a staple for kids–and a rather beloved part of many adults’ literary lexicon.

This book tears that right up to pieces. So if you really don’t want to find out that Laura Ingalls Wilder was kind of a terrible person and her daughter was one of the founding mothers of the current Libertarian movement (and the… she’s the worst, people), maybe don’t read this. I know I didn’t go in expecting the sort of cognitive dissonance that allows people to think they’re the exception, but there you have it.

Almonzo remains alright, though. So just hold on to that while you read.

The book is Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of LAURA INGALLS WILDER by Caroline Fraser. And it is something. I don’t want to delve too deeply into it, but it’s very much about the myth of the American farmer and how Wilder (in conjunction with her terrible, terrible daughter) contributed to it. It begins with a recounting of what actually happened during the events of the books (like, for example, how Wilder completely omitted entire sections because they made her father look bad–he skipped out on a lot of debts, people), and then it follows the later years as Wilder (and her terrible, terrible daughter) leaves the Dakotas and eventually ends up in a Sundown Town (oh yeah, the racism is strong in this book, folks) in Missouri. While one can sympathize with the way Wilder used her writing to FINALLY pull her family out of poverty, it’s hard to sympathize with the fact that she buys into and sells the bootstrap fallacy when she and her family were always willing to accept aid.

To be fair to Wilder, her original drafts for the  Little House books are often less egregiously bootstrappy and ‘Merica, but her daughter… her terrible, terrible daughter (I cannot and won’t even begin to describe the totality of Rose Wilder Lane’s awfulness. Let’s just say the whole evil, libertarian coven thing she has going with Ayn Rand and Isabel Mary Paterson might be toward the BOTTOM of the awfulness scale) insisted on politicizing them against FDR and the New Deal and, dear God, basic human decency. Don’t forget a central tenant to the whole libertarian thing is that helping other human beings is bad, OK? Don’t forget this.

I mean, I wish I could go on. But I don’t want to ruin the fun. And it is a fun read, all things said. I mean, I’m a historian by nature so maybe fun is more because it’s an engaging look at a subject near and dear to my heart–the myths and symbols of political identity. But, guys, just get you a drink and read about this dumpster fire of a family (again, Almonzo’s not terrible, though he has no trouble cheating the government when he feels necessary) and how they contributed so much to this stupid idea that you don’t need anyone or anything to help you as long as you’re willing to work hard. (There’s a lot of accepting of help done, of course. They just espouse not accepting help.)

Also, if you’re feeling like you need a taste of what I’m talking about before you’re willing to delve into the book, you should go read Ana Mardoll’s hilarious (-ly insightful) read-through. She originally posted it as a thread on Twitter, but it got posted to her blog, as well, so I’m gonna post it here. Rose Wilder Lane Being Terrible Her Entire Life!

This isn’t so much a recommendation of what to drink as what to read, though. If you’re a wine drinker, drink wine. If you want something a bit stronger, do that. Whatever floats your boat. I was never great at the booze recommendation, though, because I’m a lower-case t totaler. (Yes, I did just make a ridiculously stupid history joke. Let me have my things, people! This whole two months of social distancing thing is getting to me.)

Read the book! If you do, please please come say hi to me on Twitter @NerdCactus and talk to me about it! THEY’RE SO TERRIBLE, but it’s SO ENTERTAINING! Especially since Rose Lane basically self-sabotages everything, and it’s kind of fun to watch.

Seriously. Come visit me. I love talking to people over the internet. It’s much better and less awkward than talking to people in person because my intensity doesn’t burn your face off.


A (Because We’re Stuck At Home) Re-birth!

Greetings, readers of Nerd Cactus! You know, if there are any left after more than a year without an update. Yeah… we really dropped the ball. Like, we didn’t even go to Stratford together last year. I (C) went with my significant other while A was all, “I must be a responsible adult!” and worked like, you know, a responsible adult.

She is so much better at grown-upping than I am.

Anyway. With the advent of staying home for days, weeks, and months at a time (neither A nor I are selfish idiots, so of course we’re staying at home), I realized this was the perfect time to do the blog again, and A agreed. We’re probably going to forgo the schedule of the blog from before, mostly because the schedule was what killed the blog in the first place. Admittedly, because I am so much less adulty than A, I’m more at fault. Mea culpa. But I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

Now. First things first. Several of the performances from Stratford we talked about here on the blog are available on the interwebz. They’re only available for something like three weeks at a time. As of the writing of this blog, King Lear (which was from the year before we went) and Coriolanus (from the last year we went together) are available, and Macbeth (another one we saw, and admittedly one we liked less) will be up in a another couple of days. PLEASE go watch these–and please, if you are able, support the season. They’ve had to postpone the entire season (*SOB*) because of COVID19, so like many theaters, they’re suffering even as they’re providing free entertainment to help us get through these terrible times. I know a lot of people are barely able to take care of themselves right now, so absolutely make sure you’re not hurting yourself by helping other people. Transferring the problem from one place to the other is not helping anything.

And if I can help in any way (talking, helping to dispel the loneliness, etc ((but please no face call type things–those are very anxiety-ridden for me))), I’m over at the @NerdCactus handle.

Anyway. I haven’t actually decided what I want to do with this time yet. A and I agree we’re going to continue book recommendations, but I’m also thinking of spreading the recs to shows, movies, YouTube channels. Anything to wile the hours away until the powers that be decide we the working masses need to die in order to restart the economy (or, you know, we actually get to the point where there’s a working vaccine). I certainly have a lot of things to recommend.

I’m also thinking of writing about more of my personal interests. I like more than Shakespeare, reading, and writing. *gasp* I hear you say. *double gasp* Yeah. I’m way into history, mythology, and other such nerdy things that in no way translate to practical, actionable skills in the real world. It’d be nice to give way to those passions, and yoink this blog away from A like my Miles does with the food bowl when one of his brothers is eating something he wants. Miles is a cat, for the record. Anyway. It’s not a hostile takeover, or anything. It’d just save me from having to start my own blog, and being able to build on this instead of building from scratch. This is, of course, only with A’s approbation. If she doesn’t particularly feel like writing except as maybe a guest poster.

In case anyone is still wondering about Mercutio. No. No one has offered to rep it yet. I am once again editing it to see about making it tighter, maybe a bit more accessible, etc. One day, it will happen! As for any of our other ideas, those are… not happening. We live on opposite sides of the state now, and making our schedules match has been difficult enough just to keep in touch. Maybe getting Mercutio published will make it easier, but who knows.

As for my stuff, Liar has gotten beta feedback! AND THEY LIKE IT! I’m so excited! I really want to start querying by my birfmas in the fall. So I’ll keep updating about that as time goes on.

Glad to be back!


Major Apologies and an Update

Hi, guys! You might have noticed that we haven’t updated in a long while. We said we’d finish reviewing our Stratford shows… and then we didn’t. Please forgive me.

Obviously, there are issues in the world of Cactus. I feel like we’re too much in a holding pattern with Mercutio right now to really chat about anything. And there was a miscommunication between us as to who was going to post the next reviews because of how the schedule up in Stratford and rushing shows worked out, which stretched into a month (and more) of no updates. Basically, we never solved that issue even though we thought we had, and then days turned into weeks, and… well, you know. Unfortunately, the world we live in is one in which paying bills must come first, and the blog is not going to do that for us. It’s an enjoyable thing, of course, and we love talking to you guys about books and Shakespeare and writing, but needs must.

I am going to post reviews on Coriolanus and Julius Caesar early next week. Yes, even a month later, I still have plenty to say about them, and–for Coriolanus at least–I still have a TON OF HYPE. I begged A so hard, we ended up rushing this incredibly intense–INTENSE–play rather than seeing The Music Man again. She is truly a wonderful and patient friend. And once I get those done, I should be able to poke her to do the other two plays we saw: To Kill a Mockingbird and An Ideal Husband. (She’s going to have things to say about accents in BOTH of them. The former made me bawl, though. And I was going to fight a bitch if Scout didn’t come out dressed as ham. She did. There was no fighting that evening.)

On a personal front, I have finished the first round of edits on Liar! YAY ME.




It’s completely covered in red ink, to the point that I think I used up the pen. I don’t know if y’all remember the red ink all over Killing Mercutio, but this draft was 60k words shorter than that one, and I used up just as much ink. Weirdly enough, this draft was cleaner than Mercutio. I mostly just thought up funnier jokes as I was editing. That’s not to say there weren’t sections I decided to change because I came up with something more satisfying, but the draft was really good as it stood. I’m just really hard on my drafts.

No news on the Mercutio front, by the way. We’re waiting on word back from a full request and continuing to create a list of agents to query should we need to keep going. I feel like we’ve finally hit on the story/genre designation that works best and gives agents the best idea of what to expect, so that should help. The constant tinkering and making things better is all we can do, right?

Also, if anyone is doing NaNo next month, I’m The Lady C.

I’ll see y’all early next week!


Stratford 2018 Update #1

It’s here-the first round of Nerd Cactus Stratford reviews for 2018!!!

So far, the verdict is “amazing with a heavy smattering of fun.” Of course, it will get much darker from here…

See, we started with the light, frothy shows, but we’re about to dive into the heavy stuff. Yesterday we saw The Music Man and The Tempest (incidentally, the two shows I covered in our pre-Stratford ramp up). Both were wonderful, high-quality, visually stunning shows (as expected) and both were over too quickly. (Which is probably why we thought today was still Tuesday?)


The Music Man

To begin, let’s take a closer look at Meredith Willson’s The Music Man. As I mentioned, this musical is nothing if not charming, and it’s so full of heart, joy, and sticky, sappy nostalgia that even the most miserable of misers can’t help but feel their hearts melt.

Donna Feore’s direction is solid, but it’s her choreography that truly shines. Her high-energy approach to numbers like “Shipoopi,” “76 Trombones,” and even “Marian the Librarian” is breathtaking. As a matter of fact, just watching “76 Trombones,” left me exhausted. I felt winded in the best way ever. Seriously. And kudos to Devon Michel Brown for performing 4 backflips and a front flip over the course of the show.

The cast is led by Daren A. Herbert and Danielle Wade in the roles of Harold Hill and Marian Paroo, but the brilliant supporting cast doesn’t really need to be led. There is so much kinetic energy onstage that it is impossible to pick out a “weak link.” The ensemble of agile dancers consistently hams it up, but if there’s any place for “golly gee” smiles, this is it. And it works.

Herbert is loveable yet sly and Wade’s rich soprano has surprising depth even in her highest register. Steve Ross and Blythe Wilson as Mayor Shinn and his eccentric wife Eulalie MacKecknie Shinn are the perfect comedic duo, providing unexpected laughs and well-timed schtick that doesn’t actually feel “schticky.”

All told, we were all smiles from start to finish and loved pretty much everything about this production. We were hardpressed to find something that didn’t play well or that we downright disliked. The cast was well-balanced, the costumes were beautiful, the music was brilliant, and the choreography was engaging. Oh, and the horse in “The Wells Fargo Wagon” was a piece of theatre magic that actually confused us into thinking there was a live horse on stage. (Albeit for a very brief minute.)


The Tempest

Our Tuesday evening show was Shakespeare’s The Tempest. In Stratford’s version, Prospero was presented as a woman, brilliantly performed by Martha Henry. I think Martha Henry is one of the most convincing Shakespearean actors I have ever seen on stage. I understood every line of her dialogue. Beyond Shakespeare’s words, Henry brought deliberate inflection, movement, action, and subtext to the stage in spades.

The other standout in this cast was undeniably Andre Morin’s Ariel. Clad in costuming that alludes to his previous sentence trapped in a tree, his take on the spirit was nimble and efficient. Rather than play the character as mischievous or brooding, Morin tempered his longing for freedom with a genuine concern for his mistress and a need to please.

Beyond the strength of the cast and their excellent execution of Antoni Cimolino’s direction, The Tempest dazzles with its lighting design and costume design. From floating planets to shimmering lights encompassed in the gnarled roots of Prospero’s cell, the lighting in this show is pretty magical. And the costuming was just gorgeous. From Juno’s peacock costume to Caliban’s incredible half-fish deformity and Ariel’s outfit of bark, the stage was filled with the fantastic. But my favorite thing is ever is Prospero’s magic robe which incorporates pieces of the robes worn by every other Prospero in the Stratford Festival’s history. Beyond that, it contains material from the dress Martha Henry wore when she played Miranda during the 1962 festival season as well as pieces of the original tent in which Stratford’s plays were first performed. How cool is that??

That’s all for now! Coriolanus is on the agenda for tonight and we’ll see An Ideal Husband and To Kill a Mockingbird tomorrow, so expect more soon!





Boozy Plays: The Tempest

To thee and thy company I bid a hearty welcome.

-The Tempest

Hello, and welcome! ‘Tis time for a little Shakespeare-inspired boozin’.

So, something just occurred to me: in all our years of Boozy Books/Plays and attending the Stratford Shakespeare Festival, C and I have never partaken in any of the drinks we recommend during our viewings. We didn’t even play the Hamlet drinking game. (You know the one… Take a shot every time someone dies? Yes, you do.) Anyway, despite being pretty consistent enablers, we are very bad boozers.

The problem is that we want to remember and engage in the experience of the play. Getting drunk is decidedly hindering in that respect. Maybe if we rush a second viewing of Coriolanus we can discuss having a few glasses of Syrah. (Except C isn’t a wine drinker… That’s ok, I’ll drink hers.)

Anyway, tangent aside, it’s time to dive into The Tempest.

I’ve mentioned this before but did you know that Teller (of Penn and Teller) choreographed the magic for a production of The Tempest in 2014? Also, Tom Waits did the music for that production. And the acrobatics were by Pilobolus. I’m not saying I don’t foresee excellence from the Stratford production, but damn. They better step it up, amiright? (I’m so kidding. I just needed a place to create a backlink to one of our older posts. Because SEO.)

So, yes, if it isn’t already apparent, magic and music are a big deal in The Tempest. I covered that in Monday’s post so I won’t linger on that point any longer. By now, you get it. One hopes.

The Tempest opens with a storm – the eponymous tempest – and some quick n’ dirty exposition. Prospero and his daughter, Miranda, have been stranded on an island for 12 years. Why? Because Prospero was a Duke and his brother was a Dick. You know, ye olde jealous sibling trope.

While on his lonely island, Prospero came to command a “spirit” named Ariel and Caliban, the deformed son of an evil (albeit dead) witch. To be honest, most of Prospero’s magic seems to lie in his control of these characters. Ariel, in particular, handles much of the actual hocus pocus (things like creating the storm, putting people to sleep with magical sleepytime music, and scaring said people by appearing as an angry harpy). Both of these characters are locked in servitude to Prospero, and long for freedom. But they’re not portrayed as human, so does anyone care? Yes. Shakespeare cares.

In fact, The Tempest is thought to have been a commentary on colonialism, presenting the complex and problematic relationship of the “well-meaning” and “much advanced” colonizer and the “savage” colonized. Prospero has not only stolen Caliban’s rulership of the island, but he has also leveraged his rescue of Ariel to keep the spirit in his employ with the carrot of freedom always dangling just out of reach. Of course, Ariel is eventually promised his freedom as the play wraps up, but it’s never exactly clear what Caliban’s fate is. Is he left on the island to take his rightful place as ruler, or is he taken back to Naples to become a sideshow novelty? One hopes the former.

As for plot, there are three. Because interweaving stories was Shakespeare’s specialty (and a great way to appeal to as many people in the audience as possible). In one, we have the romantic plotline. Prospero encourages the match between his daughter and Ferdinand, prince of Naples. The goal is to reinstate his daughter into her rightful place as a noble. Plot number two is the rise and fall of Caliban’s doomed coup. He also discovers alcohol and falls in love(?) with Stephano and Trinculo. Plot three is Antonio and Sebastian’s plan to kill King Alonso and his advisor, Gonzalo.

The play ends with an implied wedding, forgiveness, and freedom (for Ariel at least). Prospero, finally on his way back to civilization, has no further need of magic, so he breaks his staff and renounces his powers. I mean, I wouldn’t… but you do you Prospero.

And, now, a drink! I feel that this needs something tropical with a chunk of dry ice. It’s a little on the nose, but I make no apologies. So, the drink to drink in this case is something called “rock out with your conch out,” which is just a crazy ridiculous beautiful-looking cocktail served in a freakin’ conch shell. It’s made with a blend of rums, pineapple, pomegranate, grapefruit, lime, lemon, and falernum. And a chunk of dry ice to create that magical fog.



The Tempest: Magic, Manipulation, and Music

Hey there! Welcome to today’s exploration of Shakespeare’s The Tempest.

*But first, let me give you a brief rundown of the filmed versions of The Music Man. (This was supposed to go up on Saturday, but a 9 mile hike kinda put a damper on productivity.)

There’s no more definitive version of The Music Man than the 1962 film starring Robert Preston. I also alluded to the 2003 tv-movie version in my earlier Music Man post, and it’s certainly a gem with stars like Matthew Broderick, Kristen Chenoweth, Molly Shannon, and Victor Garber.

You can also watch an absurd animated version of Shipoopi, courtesy of Family Guy.

Ok, that’s done. Now, on to the magic, manipulation, and music of The Tempest.

Written between 1610 and 1611, The Tempest is thought to be the last play Shakespeare wrote on his own. It’s also rather different from his earlier works in its overall style. More than any other one of Shakespeare’s works, The Tempest follows a neoclassical structure that is informed by the tradition of tragicomedy and the courtly masque. (Cue Ben Jonson laughing from beyond the grave.)

Interestingly, The Tempest’s use of magic is in complete opposition to the darker tones found in Macbeth and Hamlet, and returns to the whimsy found in the much earlier Midsummer Night’s Dream. Given James I’s propensity for witch hunts and his general paranoia toward the occult at this time, The Tempest is remarkable in that it doesn’t follow the “give the monarchy what they want” mentality that influenced the creation of so many of Shakespeare’s earlier plays.

That aside, the magic of The Tempest is remarkable in its usage because its only purpose is to forward a singular goal for Prospero – manipulating Antonio and Alonso, and restoring Miranda to her rightful place as a Duchess of Milan. Once Prospero sees his daughter married to Ferdinand and forgives his brother, he renounces magic. It’s as though magic is intrinsically tied to life on the island – a mere byproduct of having been deserted and a means to return to civilized life. The mischief and manipulation associated with Prospero’s magic also disperses as the play’s conclusion falls in line with the typical format of a comedy. Everything ends rather neatly as the characters return to realism (and Naples).

I think one of the aspects I’m most excited to see in Stratford’s production is the interpretation of music. The Tempest, as written, incorporates quite a bit of song. From Caliban’s drunken singing to Ariel’s magical sleepytime music, there are lots of moments in which music and magic intermingle. Stratford has always impressed me with their incorporation of music, so I’m excited to see how they handle both music and magic in this production.

That’s all for now! I’ll put together a Boozy Plays post for Friday in which I’ll explore the plot a little more deeply, and provide a pairing that’s nothing short of magical.


Stratfest Ramp Up 2018: The Music Man

“Ya got trouble my friends, right here in River City.”

If the above lyric is unfamiliar to you, we simply can’t be friends. Kidding. Not really.

Welcome, cactus friends, to today’s long-delayed post on The Music Man. I’ve been in Colorado for work all week so blogging kinda took a backseat to hiking up mountains and eating Indian food with my CEO. Sorry.

But I’m here now, and that’s what counts!!! And not a moment too soon since Monday is right around the corner again. (How did that happen anyway?)

I’ll be doing my write-up and my boozy pairing all in one post, so please stick around as I delve into Meredith Wilson’s The Music Man.

This musical has a little of everything: romance, shenanigans, a barbershop quartet, and a con man with a heart of gold at its very center.

Written in 1957, this golden age classic never feels outdated or crusty… Which is impressive given that there’s an entire song about the arrival of the Wells Fargo wagon (which is clearly dated).

The thing that keeps The Music Man alive-even in 2018-is its nostalgic Americana. And yet, it is far from being a patriotic romp. More than anything, it leaves audiences yearning for simplicity, small town hominess, and the promise that one stranger can bring an entire town to life. Oh, and that love can turn crooks into band leaders. That’s the American dream, right?

The one and only issue I have with this musical is actually an annoyance that developed after earning my Bachelor of Music. You can’t just “think” the music and suddenly play an instrument. That’s not how it works! Even in the adorable Matthew Broderick version ABC aired in 2003, I just laugh when-in his moment of desperation-he instructs his all-boy marching band to “think.”

But it’s musical theatre, and, of course, “76 Trombones” is the most rousing anthem in the genre, because in America you can do anything.

All that being said, The Music Man is a charming, sweet, and funny musical that I’ve never once tired of. The music bounces between beautiful operatic ballads in “Goodnight My Someone” to the speak-sung patter song that is “Ya Got Trouble.” And everything in between is equally catchy and adorable. From “Pick a Little, Talk a Little” to “Marian the Librarian” and, of course, “Shipoopi,” this musical comes as close to musical perfection as one can get, in my opinion.

I’m so so so excited to see this show in Stratford because it never fails to make me smile. It’s an oldie but a goodie as they say, and I’m sure Stratford’s diverse casting will lend itself to telling a story that has always been meant for everyone-not just crusty white people.

Also, let me just say that one of the few regrets I have when looking back at my musical theatre career is that I never had the opportunity to play Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn. “BALZAC.” ‘Nuff said.

Ok, time to pair this sucker. I don’t think this musical pairs well with liquor at all, but rather, lemonade. Soooo like a vodka-infused strawberry lemonade with basil? Yeah… That works. That’s the one.


Have a Salad and Watch a Play

Sorry I’m late, y’all. Meant to do this one this weekend, but I spent it voting and other adult-y things, so this got pushed back to Monday.

There are a number of versions of Julius Caesar out there for you to find and consume, but I’m going to recommend the three major ones. Funnily enough, there’s a lot of overlap between the three productions. Charlton Heston played Antony in two and John Gielgud played Cassius in one and Caesar in another. Only one of them is in color, but that doesn’t really mean shit when one of the black-and-white versions has Marlon Brando as a masterful Antony. It’s the version I immediately think of, actually, and may have seriously colored my mental image of Mark Antony.

I am well aware of the fact that my love for Antony is strange. It, like my love of Alexander Hamilton, is very much a reflection of one or two moments of sheer brilliance shining bright out of a sea of problematic shit. I know this, and I accept it. It is what it is.

Anyway. The first version is from 1950, which is actually the very first version of the play ever filmed in sound. Well, sort of. To save money, it was mostly filmed silently, with the actors going back later and dubbing in the dialogue and stuff. Charlton Heston was basically the only guy paid for the movie, which starred Chicago natives and was filmed in and around the city.

The second version, and the one I most heartily recommend, is the version from 1953, starring James Mason as Brutus, John Gielgud as Cassius, and Marlon Brando as Mark Antony. A lot of people were worried about Brando as Antony as he’d earned something of a reputation for mumbling, but after taking some advice from John Gielgud, he turned in a performance that, to me at least, has never been rivaled. Granted, I’ve never seen the play live, but Brando is Antony to me. I mean… listen to the speech.

Listen to it.


I mean… if you wanted to watch nothing else, watch that. It’s so good. But there’s still another version, the first one filmed in COLOR. WOO. It’s from 1970 and features Charlton Heston as Antony (again) and also has John Gielgud, this time as Caesar. It’s interesting to watch both this and the ’50 version for the Heston comparison, but Moses is no Brando, so… I still recommend 1953.

OK. That’s it for me. A is officially taking over now, and will be doing The Tempest and The Music Man. You’ll see me again in two weeks!