The Further Adventures of Jill and Hil
Subtitle: A Sort-of-Review of the Broadway Musical, High Fidelity
Sub-subtitle: And by God is that name perfectly ironic, because you couldn't get less fidelity if you screwed the maid of honor on the church altar shortly after kissing your new wife.
It's never a good sign when, on the way home from a musical performance, the tune running through your head is the one you heard while waiting in line for the bathroom at the bar you stopped in after the show. Even worse if you can't actually differentiate in your mind any of the songs you heard in the aforementioned musical performance, except by the classic bass-lines and occasional melodies that the creative team gang-raped in their attempt at musical allusion. And if something has to get gang-raped in any given story, in this one it sure as hell wouldn't be the chick who was shit-facedly attempting to dance all sex-kitten-like to the afore-fore-mentioned song playing at the bar you stopped in on the way home, because so reeking of desperation was she that no self-respecting would-be gang rapists could possibly get off on overpowering her. Not only that, but she probably couldn't dance sober, either.
*****
When Hilary asked if I wanted to see the show, my response was this:
TWO DATES WITH YOU IN ONE WEEK! YAY! I am so in. I loved the book, and the movie... oooooooh the movie... and I'm not even one of those Cusack-obsessed chicks. Well, that isn't even a typical Cusack character. OH, HOW I LOVE THAT CHARACTER. Apparently, I like my men overly-analytical, obsessive compulsive, self-flagellating, and bordering insanity. I'm pretty sure the musical is going to tear all that is wonderful and beautiful about him to shreds of happy-go-lucky mainstream pop crap--and will very likely consist of music that that guy would hate loathe despise and detest until the second coming of... Sid Vicious--but with you beside me, it shall be a party in a box. And, of course, Ben & Jerry's around the block.
And I could pretty much stop writing this post right there. Because I told me so. Indeed, every time I leave the house to rendezvous with Hilary, it's a blog post waiting to happen. The show sucked that much. And the $7 we spent on Ben & Jerry's was an infinitely sweeter buy than the $8 desperate-to-fill-the-house last-minute theater tickets. If you don't count the writing fodder. And so I must admit: you can never really put a price on the writing fodder.
*****
Not familiar with High Fidelity? Novel, written by Nick Hornby, published in 1995. Film adaptation, 2000, starring John Cusack. What do you need to know about the main character? His apartment is full of vinyl, organized--not alphabetically, or by genre, or by date of composition--but autobiographically. In the order he acquired the albums. He owns a record store in a location purposely chosen for its lack of foot traffic. And he would make fun of his employees and patrons--except he knows he's one of them. This is not a guy who's going to translate well to Broadway. Is he fucking awesome, or what?
*****
Let's start with a moment that actually remains spiritually faithful to the source material. Because there weren't many of them.
Scene: In the theater.
On stage: A man walks into the record store looking for "My Heart Will Go On" for his daughter.
Employee: Celine Dion? Do you even know your daughter? Oh, I'm sorry, is she in a coma?
In the audience: Jill and Hil cackle maniacally. No one else laughs.
*****
Here's a hint, o brilliant producers: the characters loathe the very tastes of the people to whom you're trying to sell tickets. Leave enough of that loathing in and you alienate your target demographic. Take enough of that out and alienate fans of the book and film. Try to encapsulate the characters' personalities via a musical genre they studiously avoid, and piss fans the fuck off.
Oh yeah: Rape music and offend everyone.
Well, maybe not everyone.
Woman sitting next to Hilary: We don't go to these things a lot, and I just don't understand. Why would something like this get such a bad review?
*****
Scene: Ben & Jerry's, after the show.
Jill: Right, so how many numbers did you count that butchered classic songs in an attempt to create musical "allusions" that would pander to the book and film fans but that were just really grating and possibly sounded worse than nails on a chalkboard?
Hilary: Uh... all of them?
Jill: And the whole "borrowing measures of music but having to change the notes so that they weren't actually infringing upon copyrights" didn't work so much, did it?
Hilary: Mmm... there's a reason why those songs weren't written that way in the first place.
Jill: Dissonance.
*****
My ears may have been bleeding, but if I were Pete Townshend, there would be a price on these people's heads.
*****
Scene: Walking along 45th Street.
Jill: But the performers were good. They did their best with what they were stuck with.
Hilary: I bet they all just really like each other.
Jill: The camaraderie of a sinking ship?
Hilary: And the leading lady was probably ecstatic to be kissing the hot understudy.
*****
Well, it's true. You didn't think I'd write a post and not mention some hot guy, especially since I'm getting threats from my regular male commenters? Ha! Ha, I say! I love you guys, but ha! By the way, there's another hottie down below.
*****
Scene: Bar on 35th Street. Jill and Hilary walk in and head straight for the bathroom. Four guys sit at the last table in the back. The ladies' room is occupied. Our heroines wait. Beastie Boys' "Intergalactic" blares out of various speakers, one of which needs to be put out of its misery. The hot guy decides it is his job. Back at the bar, shit-faced desperate girl jumps off her stool and tries to attract would-be gang rapists with moves I can only describe as indescribable
Jill: Oh, she's having a good time, huh?
Reasonably attractive guy: Yeah, she's been like that for a while. So, we wandered around for a while looking for the best place for a pint and we think we've found it. You ladies find what you're looking for tonight?
Jill: Shitty music, good ice cream, a few self-portraits, a bathroom... Wow, I wonder if I could get a picture of her. That would be great. Not enough light in here, huh?
Hilary: Nope.
Jill: I'd need the flash.
Hilary: Yep.
Jill: She probably notice?
Hilary: Probably not.
The woman is taking a very long time in the tiny bathroom. The hot guy has returned to his seat and has his studiously aloof look in full effect. The speaker has been disabled.
Jill: Do you think one of you guys could check out the men's room and see if it's usable for us?
Guy Number 3 has already jumped up to do so.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: I think my friend has that covered for you.
Just then the woman evacuates the bathroom and the point is moot.
On the way out, Hot Guy still utterly fascinated by his beer.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: Leaving so soon?
Jill: We have a few more shots we need to get before going home.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: I hope you get them, then.
Jill: Thanks.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: Good night.
Four steps toward the door.
Jill: Now.
Hilary: Yep.
Look over shoulder with charming smile and a "goodnight, gentlemen." Hot Guy has found an alternate point of focus that is nowhere near his beer. Studiously aloof, but not the type to look away when he's been caught staring, either.
Hot Guy: Good night, ladies.
*****
Scene: Outside on 35th Street, Hilary sets up tripod and Jill frames shot. From around the corner arrives a woman so classy and chic, she only could have picked up her style from a Whitesnake video. No New York accent, but definitely not a resident. A tourist.
Video tramp: Oh my God! You guys! Like! What is the best! Place! To get like! Fucking! A drink! Around here!
Hilary: You see that bar right over there?
Video tramp: Yeah?!?!
Hilary: There's four hot guys in the back.
Video tramp: Really!
Hilary: Yeah. They said they wanted company.
Video tramp: Awesome!
Sub-subtitle: And by God is that name perfectly ironic, because you couldn't get less fidelity if you screwed the maid of honor on the church altar shortly after kissing your new wife.
It's never a good sign when, on the way home from a musical performance, the tune running through your head is the one you heard while waiting in line for the bathroom at the bar you stopped in after the show. Even worse if you can't actually differentiate in your mind any of the songs you heard in the aforementioned musical performance, except by the classic bass-lines and occasional melodies that the creative team gang-raped in their attempt at musical allusion. And if something has to get gang-raped in any given story, in this one it sure as hell wouldn't be the chick who was shit-facedly attempting to dance all sex-kitten-like to the afore-fore-mentioned song playing at the bar you stopped in on the way home, because so reeking of desperation was she that no self-respecting would-be gang rapists could possibly get off on overpowering her. Not only that, but she probably couldn't dance sober, either.
*****
When Hilary asked if I wanted to see the show, my response was this:
TWO DATES WITH YOU IN ONE WEEK! YAY! I am so in. I loved the book, and the movie... oooooooh the movie... and I'm not even one of those Cusack-obsessed chicks. Well, that isn't even a typical Cusack character. OH, HOW I LOVE THAT CHARACTER. Apparently, I like my men overly-analytical, obsessive compulsive, self-flagellating, and bordering insanity. I'm pretty sure the musical is going to tear all that is wonderful and beautiful about him to shreds of happy-go-lucky mainstream pop crap--and will very likely consist of music that that guy would hate loathe despise and detest until the second coming of... Sid Vicious--but with you beside me, it shall be a party in a box. And, of course, Ben & Jerry's around the block.
And I could pretty much stop writing this post right there. Because I told me so. Indeed, every time I leave the house to rendezvous with Hilary, it's a blog post waiting to happen. The show sucked that much. And the $7 we spent on Ben & Jerry's was an infinitely sweeter buy than the $8 desperate-to-fill-the-house last-minute theater tickets. If you don't count the writing fodder. And so I must admit: you can never really put a price on the writing fodder.
*****
Not familiar with High Fidelity? Novel, written by Nick Hornby, published in 1995. Film adaptation, 2000, starring John Cusack. What do you need to know about the main character? His apartment is full of vinyl, organized--not alphabetically, or by genre, or by date of composition--but autobiographically. In the order he acquired the albums. He owns a record store in a location purposely chosen for its lack of foot traffic. And he would make fun of his employees and patrons--except he knows he's one of them. This is not a guy who's going to translate well to Broadway. Is he fucking awesome, or what?
*****
Let's start with a moment that actually remains spiritually faithful to the source material. Because there weren't many of them.
Scene: In the theater.
On stage: A man walks into the record store looking for "My Heart Will Go On" for his daughter.
Employee: Celine Dion? Do you even know your daughter? Oh, I'm sorry, is she in a coma?
In the audience: Jill and Hil cackle maniacally. No one else laughs.
*****
Here's a hint, o brilliant producers: the characters loathe the very tastes of the people to whom you're trying to sell tickets. Leave enough of that loathing in and you alienate your target demographic. Take enough of that out and alienate fans of the book and film. Try to encapsulate the characters' personalities via a musical genre they studiously avoid, and piss fans the fuck off.
Oh yeah: Rape music and offend everyone.
Well, maybe not everyone.
Woman sitting next to Hilary: We don't go to these things a lot, and I just don't understand. Why would something like this get such a bad review?
*****
Scene: Ben & Jerry's, after the show.
Jill: Right, so how many numbers did you count that butchered classic songs in an attempt to create musical "allusions" that would pander to the book and film fans but that were just really grating and possibly sounded worse than nails on a chalkboard?
Hilary: Uh... all of them?
Jill: And the whole "borrowing measures of music but having to change the notes so that they weren't actually infringing upon copyrights" didn't work so much, did it?
Hilary: Mmm... there's a reason why those songs weren't written that way in the first place.
Jill: Dissonance.
*****
My ears may have been bleeding, but if I were Pete Townshend, there would be a price on these people's heads.
*****
Scene: Walking along 45th Street.
Jill: But the performers were good. They did their best with what they were stuck with.
Hilary: I bet they all just really like each other.
Jill: The camaraderie of a sinking ship?
Hilary: And the leading lady was probably ecstatic to be kissing the hot understudy.
*****
Well, it's true. You didn't think I'd write a post and not mention some hot guy, especially since I'm getting threats from my regular male commenters? Ha! Ha, I say! I love you guys, but ha! By the way, there's another hottie down below.
*****
Scene: Bar on 35th Street. Jill and Hilary walk in and head straight for the bathroom. Four guys sit at the last table in the back. The ladies' room is occupied. Our heroines wait. Beastie Boys' "Intergalactic" blares out of various speakers, one of which needs to be put out of its misery. The hot guy decides it is his job. Back at the bar, shit-faced desperate girl jumps off her stool and tries to attract would-be gang rapists with moves I can only describe as indescribable
Jill: Oh, she's having a good time, huh?
Reasonably attractive guy: Yeah, she's been like that for a while. So, we wandered around for a while looking for the best place for a pint and we think we've found it. You ladies find what you're looking for tonight?
Jill: Shitty music, good ice cream, a few self-portraits, a bathroom... Wow, I wonder if I could get a picture of her. That would be great. Not enough light in here, huh?
Hilary: Nope.
Jill: I'd need the flash.
Hilary: Yep.
Jill: She probably notice?
Hilary: Probably not.
The woman is taking a very long time in the tiny bathroom. The hot guy has returned to his seat and has his studiously aloof look in full effect. The speaker has been disabled.
Jill: Do you think one of you guys could check out the men's room and see if it's usable for us?
Guy Number 3 has already jumped up to do so.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: I think my friend has that covered for you.
Just then the woman evacuates the bathroom and the point is moot.
On the way out, Hot Guy still utterly fascinated by his beer.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: Leaving so soon?
Jill: We have a few more shots we need to get before going home.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: I hope you get them, then.
Jill: Thanks.
Reasonably Attractive Guy: Good night.
Four steps toward the door.
Jill: Now.
Hilary: Yep.
Look over shoulder with charming smile and a "goodnight, gentlemen." Hot Guy has found an alternate point of focus that is nowhere near his beer. Studiously aloof, but not the type to look away when he's been caught staring, either.
Hot Guy: Good night, ladies.
*****
Scene: Outside on 35th Street, Hilary sets up tripod and Jill frames shot. From around the corner arrives a woman so classy and chic, she only could have picked up her style from a Whitesnake video. No New York accent, but definitely not a resident. A tourist.
Video tramp: Oh my God! You guys! Like! What is the best! Place! To get like! Fucking! A drink! Around here!
Hilary: You see that bar right over there?
Video tramp: Yeah?!?!
Hilary: There's four hot guys in the back.
Video tramp: Really!
Hilary: Yeah. They said they wanted company.
Video tramp: Awesome!
Labels: adventures in theater, aurally-obsessed, Jill loves New York, on men, rants and humor, with the girls
posted by Jill at
8:31 AM
15 Comments:
At the end of the world, when the hand-to-hand combat with the aliens starts, lets see how much you like your overly-analytical man then! If you're smart you'll tell him to shut the f&@$ up and you'll pick him up and start swinging him like a club at the nearest little alien bastard you see.
I'm just sayin' is all.
Hello, Jill.
By
scott, At
Fri Dec 15, 12:22:00 PM 2006
While I'm not the biggest fan of this sudden infusion of "hot" guys in every post, Scott's comments have had me on the floor. So ... it's give and take.
By
-J, At
Fri Dec 15, 01:42:00 PM 2006
"By the way, there's another hottie down below."
Smile when you say that, Stranger. And, I was always taught to look 'em in the eye. Go figure.
Sorry, but, I mean, c'mon, if you're just going to pass lines like that out to me, well, you have got to expect that I'm going to call attention to them.
Now, I'm sure this would have gotten me in trouble all sorts of ways, but beer guy should have looked you, specifically you, right in the eye when you turned 'round and then smiled and winked. At least, it's what I would have done. Caught staring? Pshaw! What else would I do but stare at you, Jill?
Have you seen "Must Love Dogs"? Maybe a little saccharine for you, but, I think, the best Cusack has ever been. Either that or the halo effect from Diane Lane made him seem even better than usual.
By
Network Geek, At
Fri Dec 15, 01:42:00 PM 2006
self-respecting would-be gang rapists
was a very distracting line. It took me several paragraphs to recover, and I believe my mind is still processing it at a sub-concious level.
Well told, Jill. You should write a play someday.
By
peefer, At
Fri Dec 15, 02:16:00 PM 2006
Scott: Brilliantly stated. I'll be sure to pass that advice on to your wife.
-J, yes I have to say, Scott, has really outdone himself this week. Maybe because that dumbass Ducklet retired, and now my comments section is getting twice as much of Scott's wit.
Geek, the gentleman was more the type to do exactly the opposite. He's got it like that.
Peefer, I'll take that under advisement. Perhaps I will write a play someday...
By
Jill, At
Fri Dec 15, 03:09:00 PM 2006
And please excuse the accidental comma after Scott's name in the previous comment. I just can't bring myself to redo the comment. Sorry.
By
Jill, At
Fri Dec 15, 03:10:00 PM 2006
I love the part where you and Hillary agree to perfectly time the "lookback/goodbye." I knew you women did things like that...you are just the first that I've ever seen admit it.
And I am sorry we didn't get to see a picture of the Tawny Kitaen look-a-like. I hope she danced on the hood of a car later in the evening.
By
Grad School Reject, At
Fri Dec 15, 03:25:00 PM 2006
Yes, it was even more subtle than that. I should have tried harder to truly encapsulate the subtle art of knowing when to look back at Mr. Aloof to prove he'd been paying attention all along.
I sooo wish we'd snapped a shot of her, but we were blindsided.
By
Jill, At
Fri Dec 15, 03:37:00 PM 2006
I must admit I haven't read the whole post yet...but intend to because it's thus far hilarious...but I have to commend you on being the first person in human history to write the phrase "self-respecting would-be gang rapists" and make it seem artistic.
By
Arthur Willoughby, At
Fri Dec 15, 03:38:00 PM 2006
Aw, shucks, Apathy! You flatter me! ;-)
By
Jill, At
Fri Dec 15, 04:04:00 PM 2006
Sounds like a fun evening. Yes, guys wait until a count of three and then turn and stare (sooner if you are walking away) and then turn away after a 3 second viewing. Women turn back to look after a 7 count for their peek. You cught them before they looked away, very astute of you to know the timing that well.
By
Spaceman Spiff, At
Fri Dec 15, 05:12:00 PM 2006
I am nothing if not astutely in tune with the psychology of Mr. Aloof.
By
Jill, At
Fri Dec 15, 05:19:00 PM 2006
Should I tell you the story about why I had to switch blogs, Jill?
By
Thomas, At
Fri Dec 15, 09:10:00 PM 2006
Hmm, maybe that's why I don't do as well with more ladies, Jill. I just don't do aloof all that well. OTH, the older and more frequently divorced a woman is, the better I seem to do. That bears a little more in depth research.
'Scuse me, but I just remembered I have a phone call to make, to flatter a recently divorced woman. ;)
By
Network Geek, At
Sun Dec 17, 01:07:00 PM 2006
Um, they turned High Fidelity into a musical? Really? Ug. Where has the creativity gone? Thank god you have so much of it Jill. Help us all.
By
Cheryl, At
Sun Dec 17, 02:26:00 PM 2006
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