Shit Asian Moms Say

In which a meme is tirelessly played on...and on...and on...

But this variation is near and dear to any skinny Asian girl who has ever come home from college or living far away and her mom will say, "You got fat."

And then she will proceed to keep telling said "fat" Asian girl to "eat more" at dinner.

In case you are wondering, yes, "You got fat" was one of the first things my mom said to me when I came home from 6 months in Europe and recently, a year and a half of living on the East Coast. But as with the case with a majority of Asian moms, harsh-sounding words is just her way of showing affection.

I Heard It Through the Class Vine

It seems that every time I tune into any Republican nominee candidate speaking (something I try to avoid for my own personal sanity), the common buzzwords include "warfare," "welfare" and "Obama," the most common permutation being, "Obama is trying to wage class warfare." What with talks of the 99% and protestors being indiscriminately pepper sprayed (and Mitt Romney not caring about the "very rich" or the "very poor"), it's fitting that right now, one of the more emerging topics discussed on the theatrical stage is the issues of class.

In two weeks, I saw two plays on two different coastlines, which represented two different types of American theater: the commercial Broadway theater and the non-profit, regional theater. The first was Stick Fly by Lydia R. Diamond (who was profiled in the December issue of American Theatre, on Broadway at the Cort Theater, about an African-American family during a weekend at Martha's Vineyard.

The second was Elemeno Pea by Molly Smith Metzler, at South Coast Repertory, who is also a co-worker of mine at Theatre Communications Group. That one was about two White sisters and one sister's wealthy employer on Martha's Vineyard. (Aside: I was on vacation in California when I saw this and ate so much, but not enough, Vietnamese food throughout. Lunar New Year is like Christmas for Asian people, gastronomically.)

In these two scenarios, we won't discuss the race issue (which will be the topic for another blog post). What these two plays have in common are the class discussions, in the seemingly insular world of Martha's Vineyard.

Renting Fate for a Year

"Untitled (Slide)" by Carsten Holler, at the New Museum until January 22. Because life is a long, winding slide where if you try to stop, you'll get injured.

In the musical Rent, the tagline is "No day but today." And while I have never been fond of Rent (because of its sentimentality and its less-than-inspired lyrics), I reacted to that message, not from the urge to have a Bohemian lifestyle but rather, because it emphasized valuing the moment you were living in and the people you were sharing it with. 2011 was the year I learned to live in the moment.

Christmas in New York City

Even the Empire State Building was feeling the holiday spirit, so why didn't I?

My first Christmas in New York City. I can write about it romantically or I can write about it truthfully.

Romantically, my first Christmas in New York City was relaxing, some much-needed alone time to gather my thoughts and reflect on how far I've come this year.

In actuality, I spent Christmas weekend drinking hot chocolate, watching old episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" and having too many mimosas at Sunday brunch (which was more overpriced than normal and I met up with a fellow friend who did not go home for Christmas). And other than the phone call from my parents to wish me a Merry Christmas and a phone call from my oldest sister who was making a cake for her son's birthday party on Christmas day and wanted to know how to make whipped cream, I didn't speak to many people this past weekend. Not to say that I was lonely, but the quiet was palpable.

But one thing about the holiday season, you're not allowed to feel indifference. And there's not much place for pretending that all of the romanticism of mistletoe, snow, presents and "How are you spending Christmas? Are you going back to California to see your family?" does not affect you.

In fact, it was shaking me and asking me frantically why I wasn't feeling more cheerful, why I was spending the holidays alone and why I didn't have a Christmas tree. To answer those questions: I feel slight amusement, that's enough; my mom wanted me home for Tet and I can only afford to fly back to California once this year; and I have no room for a Diep-sized Christmas tree.

Because this year, I was not in the holiday mood. Maybe it's that transition from childhood to adulthood, or perhaps that's the byproduct of spending a season that everyone (religious and non-believers alive) was spending with their family alone. You can't help but feel out of the norm; in the land of twinkle lights and garlands, you are an alien.

So yes, my first Christmas in New York City was quiet. But when you consider that I live in New York City, quiet is pretty atypical and kind of great. And I'll celebrate with my family when I come home to California in January.

"Once" in a Theater

A perfect moment of theater does not necessarily happen in a show that is entirely good. It's likelier in a show that is entirely good from start to finish. But it can also happen in one of those shows that leaves you mostly emotionless, where you didn't entirely dislike it but you didn't like it very much either. That happened to me with the musical version of Once, a charming little Irish movie about two socially awkward yet musically talented people who develop feelings for each other, make music and then not make love.

But this post is not about what struck me (or didn't) about the musical version of the film, currently playing at the New York Theatre Workshop (it's also written by Enda Walsh, whose Penelope was my first moment of theatrical bliss in New York City). No, this is the story of that rare and perfect theatrical moment.

God is in the Details

Thou shalt remember that less is more.

It's about two weeks until Christmas and c'mon, mommy needs some new Sondheim!

Reposted with love from LinManuel.com.

Stalking Stephen Sondheim

I have never considered myself a Stephen Sondheim (or as others call him, "God") expert. Yes, I enjoy the man's work but I haven't seen enough of his shows live to peg myself as an expert. Yes, I listen to the cast album from his shows for fun (sometimes while at the gym) but that's more fan than expert.

These past two weeks, I've taken my fanaticism to a whole new level by attending not just one, but two Sondheim events in New York City, part of the press tour to promote his new book: Look, I Made a Hat.

You can find a more reported version of the events where we went to here at my (platonic) date's blog: Theatre-Words.

To quote myself: "We have officially become Sondheim groupies." So much so that we noticed the Master wore the same outfit to the first event (The Colbert Report, click on the link for potential free tickets to the show) as he did the second event (a conversation with Anna Quindlen at Barnes & Noble). We're fashion-savvy like that.

Here's a nice little excerpt from his interview with Miss Quindlen: when asked about which one of his works he would like to take to a desert island, he answered with A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, because if you have to listen to something night after night, it should be something that makes you laugh.

And here's the interview with Stephen Colbert, where Stephen squared sang an up-beat, let's call it lounge, version of "Sorry Grateful" from Company.

"My performance of Harry, great interpretation of Sondheim or greatest interpretation of Sondheim?"

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In the Bathroom with Frank Gehry

The Alice Griffin Jewel Box Theatre, part of the new Signature Center designed by Frank Gehry

I was chatting with Frank Gehry, architect extraordinaire, while waiting in line to the bathroom. With famous people, the best way to humanize them, is to see them go into a bathroom, it's the great equalizer (next to death).

Let's pull back a little bit, how did I encounter architect Frank Gehry in the bathroom? It was during a press tour of the new in-progress Signature Center, New York City's Signature Theatre's new home, designed by Gehry at a discounted price of only $66 million.

During his speech at the luncheon, which you can read a bit of in the linked article, he demonstrated just how famous he was by calling the greatest playwright who ever lived as "The guy said, 'All the world’s a stage', and I believe that." Did I mention the man is in his 80's and hilarious? He also responded with "Thank God," when I told him I don't write about architecture.

And he's also going to live longer now, because I said that he can. So you're welcome architecture-fanatics. You're welcome.

As for the new center, with three theaters opening into a central space with a cafe and bookstore, it's a theatrical piazza (which was the point). Hopefully I will be able to get in when the place finally opens in January.

So yes, just another day at American Theatre magazine.

In Defense of Criticism

 I defend the art of criticism in the TCG Circle blog. Choice snippet:

Based on what I was taught and what I noticed in practice (reviewing for student dailies, websites, print publications and my personal blog), the respect of the theatre artist is a sometimes-handy byproduct of a review. It is not why critics write.

In the words of Chris Jenson, a stage columnist for the SF Weekly, “My primary role is not to be a cheerleader for local theatre, but to be of service to readers.”

 Read the rest at the circle (and see if you can get the play reference in the title).