'The Graduate' - a Review

A lot has been written in the local-media blog-world lately about the London Free Press refusing to run an opinion column by long-time regular contributor Rory Leishman about the production of 'The Graduate" at the Grand Theatre. Or Theatre London. Or whatever they're calling it these days. Censorship, freedom of speech, democracy, ... blah, blah, blah.

Rory was very upset about the full-frontal nudity on stage which comes courtesy of "Mrs. Robinson" as portrayed by 46-year-old star of stage and the small-screen, Sonja Smits. Rory predicts that this is just the first step in the Grand leading us all down the road to Sodom and Gomorrah.

In an exclusive "leak" to Sonny Drysdale Presents, here is part of the hard-to-find column in which Rory predicts what will soon be a coming attraction to the Grand - "One wonders to what they might stoop to next. Perhaps one day soon, they will strew the stage with mattresses and invite naked volunteers from the audience to engage in group sex."

As confirmation of this, he cites a theatre in Montreal where this has recently actually happened - with theatre audiences not only coming on a nightly basis, but twice on Sunday!

Well, this past Saturday, I went to see the closing night performance of 'The Graduate.' And I must say, I am very, very disappointed in the Grand Theatre. Yes, there was indeed full-frontal nudity. But such small portions. Only one scene. And did that one scene have to be so dimly lit?

Sonja Smit's body gets a three thumbs-up rating from me. But as for the rest of her performance, she often sounded like she was imitating Gloria Swanson as 'Norma Desmond' in Sunset Boulevard. Thankfully she compensated for all the hautiness by looking great with her clothes off.

As Benjamin, the character known and beloved because of Dustin Hoffman's protrayal in the 1966 movie version, Andrew Hachey was adequate. He looks about 17 years old. But then, Dustin looked about 30 when he played the college graduate in the movie.

But had Rory actually seen the play, being the womans'-rights booster that he is, he undoubtably would have been more appalled at what the playwright had done to the "Elaine" character, than he was at any nudity on stage.

In the play, an "adaptation" by Terry Johnson of the source material - in this case, both the original novel by Charles Webb and the screenplay by Buck Henry and Calder Willingham - the Elaine character is an empty-headed potential 'Stepford Wife.' And played to perfection by Maria Dinn, who is obviously very familiar with the ouvre of Ms. Suzanne Sommers.

In the novel and the movie version, the Elaine character is probably one of the smartest people in the story. If someone was to whisper the word "plastics" in her ear as a confidential tip, she would have known what to do with it. Unlike Benjamin.

She's no dummy. She's in exactly the same position and emotional state as Ben - and that's why they relate to each other. That's why they fall in love so effortlessly - even tho she's under the misunderstanding that he supposedly raped her mother.

As played by Katherine Ross, "Elaine" was one of the best things in the whole movie. You could easily see why Dustin Hoffman's "Ben" would fall in love with her. They make a great team. But with the play, other than hating Mrs. Robinson, you have no idea what bond these two people could possibly have. In fact, you saw very little emotional connection from any of the characters. Richard Alan Campbell as 'Mr. Robinson,' gave us some of that. But as for everyone else, they were just actors on a stage talking and shouting at each other. Which is why I prefer movies. Or a good TV sitcom.

Other than that, "The Graduate" was a Dynamite Hit Sure to Please the Whole Family! .. Can hardly wait to see their production of 'Pippin' at Christmas!!!

As for Rory's predictions of upcoming shows featuring orgies with the Grand's staff of volunteers - if it involves people like the pleasant-but-firm middle-aged fancey-pants guy who took my ticket or the nice grandmotherly-type who directed me to my seat, well then, I think I'll just pass.

As for London Free Press' editor-in-chief Paul Berton's justification for spiking Rory's column in the first place because it was "misinformed" and "over-the-top," well, since when does that make any difference at the London Free Press - or at ANY newspaper for that matter?

I Got Sold, But I'm Not a Soulja

Spent the weekend listening to this new band called 'The Killers.' They're one of those "alternative" bands that are so big with the college radio crowd.

I discovered them last week on late-night television. On Letterman one night and then Jimmy Kimmel the next. So I went out and picked up their new CD, Hot Fuss.

Lots of U2 arena-rock singalongs like on the song "All These Things That I Have Done." The song "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine," is pure Springsteen. And "Mr. Brighteyes," is the best cover of David Boughie's Queen Bitch that I ever heard. I can see why the Killers are so big with the young people right now.

Weird tho, some of their songs all sound the same but I couldn't find the tune they were playing on TV - "When I Was Young." They must have just written it that week or something.

I predict big things for these kids. I can hardly wait till they come to town. I am so there.

You Ever Notice ....

What's the deal with Canadian comics, huh? You ever notice that whenever we have a home-grown Canadian comedian that makes it big and doesn't immediately head south, that they tend to look like Mike Bullard or Steve Smith or Brent Butt?

I mean, is it some kind of rule of Canadian comedy that they have to be slightly on the homely side? Probably the most successful career-funny guy up here is Mike McDonald. And I gotta tellya, with that gorilla unibrow look of his - yes, I would kick him out of bed for eating crackers. You know what I mean?

Norm McDonald is a Canadian comedy export but he's more goofy looking than homely. Mike Myers and Martin Short are both cute but they don't live here anymore. Rick Mercer is definitely good looking but he doesn't count because he's more of a political pundit than a comic. Can't imagine him playing the Catskills. Or Vegas. Or the Canadian Comedy Festival in London, Ont. for that matter. And the entire cast of Royal Canadian Air Farce look like barbers and accountants.

It sort of says it all that the best-looking guy still in the funny business in this country is Scott Thompson from Kids in the Hall. He's ruggedly handsome and virile looking in a lumber-jack Canadian way. And he looks soooo good in a dress.

I think all of this goes back to the days of Wayne and Shuster. They showed up to audition for the Ed Sullivan show doing a dramatic reading from "To Kill a Mockingbird," and Ed told them, "Sorry boys, drama ain't in the cards for youse. You both have perfect faces for comedy."

Only in London

Just got back from walking downtown to the LOLA festival. In the non-stop rain that is known as 'Late October in London.'

LOLA is the "London Outside Live Alternative" or "Live Outdoors London Alternative" (or something like that,) Festival where they block off the main drag downtown and set up two stages for all day 'alternative rock' concerts. It's the first outdoor live music party aimed directly at us kids - as opposed to all the Classic Rock outdoor shows that happen every weekend during the summer in this town to the great joy of every old fart who thinks that Geddy Lee is God.

I guess, I shouldn't complain. It's something anyway. It's a start to London's official plan of making this a "Creative City" - in the naive hope that all us 'creative' types won't get the hell out of here as soon as we split from high school. And of course in inviting and welcoming all "diverse" people (whatever the hell that means,) out there to leave Toronto and join us - and thus contribute to the tax-base revenue.

But geez, did they have to give us a weekend for our outdoor celebration right in the middle of MONSOON season! That kind of says it all. Just another example of The Man sticking it to us kids.

Sorry for being such a buzz-kill, but I'm soaking wet after standing around in the rain for the past four hours listening to the likes of Sheena Swearword, the Outta-sites, the Sacred Cows and the Electric Shoes.

The thing goes on till near midnight but I could already feel the ammonia settling into my lungs so we split. Besides, I have a feeling that those rumors being spread on FM-96 that 'The Killers' were going to make a surprise appearance, just ain't gonna happen.

I'll say this for it tho - it blew the shit outta Sun Fest and Home County and those other outdoor craft shows masquerading as music festivals. Maybe next time, the powers-that-be will give us those time slots on the Calender of Events.

But I doubt it. After all, those would be the same people that sink hundreds of tax-dollars annually into bringing a Comedy Festival to a city that's universally known as 'The Town that Fun Forgot.'

Gawd, I can hardly wait till I'm old enough to move outta this Gwengontanamo prison!

This Time It's Personal

Have you heard the latest? The Liberals are going to parachute Justin Trudeau into London North-Centre to run in the upcoming federal by-election.

It's a desperation move of course. His dad was cremated, otherwise they'd be bringing in the corpse of Pierre Eliot Trudeau in an attempt to prevent former London mayor Dianne Haskett from winning that former Liberal seat for the ruling Conservative Party.

This town has been all a-twitter at the surprise news this week that Haskett has returned from her self-imposed six-year exodus in the wilderness of Washington D.C. to take over that federal member of Parliament seat vacated by soon-to-be former politician Joe Fontana who left his job only a few months into it because he mistakingly believed he was such an obvious shoo-in for Mayor.

Haskett, who took an early leave of her own duties as Mayor six years ago to move to Washington because her husband found a job there, is now back in London wanting to represent us at the federal level. Her husband is supportive of the move. Apparently, as a graphic artist, he can work anywhere.

But even though she claims that it is her "heart's desire," to return to London and work for the Conservative Party, she's making no committments to stay should she not get the nomination to run. And if she loses the election, you know she's back in Washington - where, she gushed on the radio the other day, she and her husband have a real cool apartment in a trendy downtown neighbourhood where they have lots of friends and friends of people in high places.

Naw, if things don't work out, she ain't sticking around this hick town. And who can blame her. But we can blame her for this blatant political opportunism being passed off as a sentimental homecoming. "Hearts desire," my ass! C'mon, if a by-election seat opened up in Chatham and she had more than 10 friends there, she'd be running in that riding. But even though Fontana didn't live in London either - at least he lived in Arva. At least he's lived IN THIS COUNTRY for the past six years.

It's interesting that in all her interviews, the reason for her return at this time is because she wants to do what she can to help Prime Minister Harper keep the Conservative government going. Note the lack of rhetoric about how she wants to help London and Londoners and those in the London North-Centre riding.

I guess we should be grateful she isn't promising to "put London on the map." She already accomplished that when she was Mayor and made this town a national laughing-stock by refusing to proclaim a Gay Pride Day due to her fundamentalist Christian beliefs. In a radio interview this week, she promised not to go down that road if elected. In any free vote about gay marriage (which is already a done deal and not likely to be dragged up again,) she said she would listen to her constituents and then vote with her conscience. Meaning that she would vote against it and also argue that all gay marriages currently on the books be rescinded - or at least make sure that all the wedding gifts are returned. Such will read the headlines in a world where Diane Haskett has a voice on the national stage. We can only hope that she doesn't embarrass us further the way her fellow fundamentalist Christian and former M.P. Jack Burqhardt did years ago in the House of Parliament by calling for an end to Satanic messages in heavy metal music.

But I'll say this for her, in the midst of a pretty good munipal election, she has stolen all the headlines - and for another election that hasn't yet even been called, no less.

The very day after her announcement, there on the front page of the London Free Press (Thursday, Oct. 19, for anyone paying attention,) along side a pic of a beaming Haskett, is a photo of Megan Walker, Haskett's arch-enemy from the days when Haskett was Mayor and Walker was her biggest adversary on city council. What a photo! I tell you, the woman looks like she's ready to spit tacks. You can almost read her thoughts - "How dare she, how dare she return to this town and want to help that nasty Steven Harper and his evil Conservatives!"

So yesterday comes the official news that Me-agin herself is running against Haskett in this soon-to-be announced election. She had no plans to run prior to Haskett's announcement. Or in any election. She had retired from politics after Haskett left town. Which kind of says everything you need to know. She says she's back in the game because she doesn't want Canada to become like the United States - you know, the sort of world where people like Steven Harper and George Bush and former London mayors who now live in Washington can push their moral agenda.

She sure ain't running because she thinks she has a chance of winning. Typically Megan, she has aligned herself with those perennial losers, the New Democratic Party and their leader (a true national embarrassment,) Jack Layton. (Hey Jack, tell us again how we can best help the people in Afghanistan by getting our troops out of there so the women and children of the country can sit down and negotiate with the Taliban.)

No, the only reason Walker is running is because of who her opponent is. She wants to save us from Diane Haskett - which is odd because initially it looked like Haskett was the one with the 'Saviour' complex.

I remember years ago when both women were on City Council. Walker was opposed to some initiative Haskett had put forward. Don't matter what it was - could have been sewer taxes, could have been the Gay Pride thing - the woman rejected anything initiated by Haskett out of spite or instinct alone. And she was on the TV news claiming that "This isn't about Diane Haskett ..." And she was right. It was all about Megan Walker.

As Don Michael Corleone said in 'The Godfather,' before sending Abe Vigoda to sleep with the fishes - "It's ALL personal." The fact that Walker jumped into this election race ONLY after Haskett delared her intentions says it all. It's just a chance to badmouth Haskett on a public stage. Talk about your political opportunists.

In Biblical terms that Haskett might understand, Megan is like one of those Harpies from the Old Testament that followed that Odysseus guy around and plagued him on his journeys in the book of Exodus.

Asshole Writers Revisited

The Twisted One, my fellow blogspotdotcommer over to seantwist.blogspot.com, has an excellent post up about his pet peeve - writers who take themselves too seriously, believe their own hype and in general think far too highly of themselves - as opposed the rest of us mere mortals. "Writing to me is no more amazing than bricklaying or fixing a broken toilet," says Mr. Twist.

And Daddy, you are soooooo right! If there's one thing I can't stand it's writers who go on and on and on and on and on about how great they are. But needless to say, that goes without saying.

However, it does remind me of an incident from my youth. I was part of a crowd that hung out in a little bistro on the Rue DePraytance in Paris, France. It was normally frequented by ex-pat American writers and artists of dubious distinction. If memory serves, I believe it was called The Back Room of Max's Kansas City:the Euro Version. Great chick-pea salad incidently.

One of the regulars was F.Scott Fitzgerald. Chicks got to call him 'Scott,' but he insisted that everyone else call him 'F.' So we did. Only we lenthened it a bit to 'Effin.' Whenever he would walk in, the whole bar would yell out, "Hey, it's Effin Scott Fitzgerald!" It was like something out of 'Cheers.'

Anyway, on this one occassion, .F. Scott is holding court and proclaims that "You know, writers are different from everyone else." And Morley Callahan pipes up - "Yeah, they know more words."

Man, I swear Ernie Hemingway almost shit himself with laughing so hard. F.Scott of course, was not amused.