Bless the Beasts and Children: Ethan and the ASPCA

I was reading the fall issue of ASPCA Action the other day. It's the quarterly publication of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and it comes to me in the mail, but it can also be downloaded from the ASPCA site here. In fact, click here to download the fall issue as a pdf file.
It's a great little magazine with information for pet owners and lots of both heartbreaking and heartwarming stories about the plight and rescue of homeless or abused pets in America.
Anyway, I was reading this article on page 9 about a little boy named Ethan St. Amant who, after seeing an ASPCA television commercial about abused and abandoned animals in shelters decided to help in whatever way he could.
Well, Ethan's eighth birthday was coming up, so he asked that friends and family give to the ASPCA instead of buying him birthday gifts. The kid took a pass on Transformers, video games, baseball gloves, and Yu-Gi-Oh, so that shelter animals could have food, medicines, etc, and he wasn't even eight years old yet!
Ethan set up a birthday page over at ASPCA Ambassadors, and, as of the publication of the fall issue, Ethan had raised $555 for the ASPCA!
Here's what Ethan had to say about his choice to forego toys for his birthday:
"I just wanted to save the animals. I helped to save some dogs."
I have been thinking about Ethan a lot over the last couple days, particularly when I see one of the nearly identical TV commercials that Wal-Mart and Toys R Us are running now, in which kids are rattling off an insanely long wish list of toys they want for Christmas.
It's nice to know that there are kids out there like Ethan St. Amant, who recognize that life is more about giving than getting.
Good for you, Ethan. (And a big "well done" to Ethan's parents.)

The Other Side of PHAMALy

Most everyone who enjoys Denver theatre has heard of PHAMALy, the Physically Handicapped Actors and Musical Artists League. For twenty years, PHAMALy has been entertaining Denver audiences with rousing musicals and increasing awareness about people with disabilities.
With VOX PHAMALIA Re-Dux, however, prepare to have your awareness increased wider than ever. Playing a very limited run through November 14 at the Mizel Center, VOX gives us a glimpse into the lives of these performers after the curtain goes down. From laugh-out-loud silly to darkly satirical to heart-wrenchingly real, these performers once again put all of us "able-bodied" theatre folk to shame by unabashedly displaying their inner vulnerabilities for all to see.
Don't expect to leave the theatre with that same "feel-good" spirit that accompanies the summer musical. That's not the point of this show. However, if you want to have a greater appreciation of PHAMALy, then you should really see this production.
Warning: the subject matter is not for the kids and certainly not for anyone who wants to continue to blithely appreciate the "tokenness" of Denver's only all-disabled theatre company.
This is an eye-opener.
And it's selling out fast.

For more on the show, here's John Moore's piece in the Denver Post.

Fuzzy Philanthropy. Is It That Time Again Already?

I've been away from the blog for a bit, gang, sorry. I'd tell you why, but it's a long explanation full of all those messy little personal details that are really only important to me. Suffice it to say, John Lennon put it best when he said "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." (I don't know if he said it first, but he set it to music, so I'll give it to him.)
I was able to keep up the Twitter updates for those of you who've been following me there. I hope you're enjoying it as much as I have been. 140 characters is a pretty darn good-sized box to put a thought into most times. Though I shall have to be careful not to again engage the Glenn Beck drones who scour the feeds looking for negative references to their misguided pedagogue and cannot decide amongst themselves on the proper spelling of "LaRouche." (Two hours of my life that I will never get back.)
Anyway, I have noticed (much to my chagrin) that the holiday shopping commercials have begun already. There was one the other night from ebay reminding consumers of the "evils" of handmade gifts. (I guess it really isn't the thought that counts. Oy.)
Now, I will forego my usual tirade about consumerism, the debasing of the holidays by merchants, and the idea that familial love can be measured by the size of one's MasterCard balance.
Instead I will respond to the first of the holiday jingles with the first of my blogs devoted to alternative holiday gifts.
Now, I'm not suggesting that (Frosty forbid) you should refrain from buying your little emos and emettes the newest version of Dance Dance Revolución. Rudolph's little red nose would surely be extinguished if every adolescent in America didn't have a wii stick in their hands by December 26th.
I am simply suggesting that you might still be able to appease the elf gods for those individuals on your list in the "hard-to-buy-for" category while incorporating a bit of altruism as well.
Did Cousin Josie show up to your Halloween party dressed as a blue-footed booby?
Well, she might appreciate it if you skipped the Glamour Shots gift card this year and instead paid a visit to the World Wildlife Fund's Gift Center. There you can buy all kinds of gifts that will support wildlife conservation and even adopt endangered fauna in her name. (Haven't you always wanted a wombat?)
You get to show your cousin that you understand what's close to her heart and maybe, just maybe, somewhere a reindeer gets to graze in peace without fear of a winking ex-governor in a low-flying plane.
And technically you're still buying a gift, so Santa (also known as the Egg Nog Czar) won't have to climb down your chimney and break your fingers. Oh what do you care, you've got great insurance, right?

Long Before I Knew You: Judy Holliday

Dear Ms. Holliday,

You don't know me, but I'm a big fan of yours. I love your movies. I'm sorry to say I've never seen you on stage.
I write a little blog on theatre in the Denver area. I call myself the Big Bad Wolf because it was a nickname I picked up somewhere along the way - I have a tendency to be a bit outspoken about things I believe in, so I guess it fits. I don't mind the reputation. Sometimes you have to stand up for your beliefs.
You and I have that in common. I admire your courage in refusing to name names before the Senate Internal Security Committee in 1952. That could have cost you, but you stood tough.
I also direct and occasionally act in theatre. At the moment, I haven't got much going on. I guess you know what that's like. I heard that, despite your rave reviews on Broadway in Born Yesterday, Columbia wasn't going to let Garson Kanin cast you as Billie Dawn in the movie version. One of my favorite Hollywood behind-the-scenes stories is about how Garson Kanin, Spencer Tracy, and Katharine Hepburn connived and conspired to get you the role in Adam's Rib so that Columbia Studios could see what you could do. And after your performance in that film, how could anyone not give you the role of Billie in Born Yesterday?
For me, your performance in Born Yesterday is unsurpassed. I made the mistake of watching the remake with Melanie Griffith a few years ago. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't you. So now I stick strictly to your portrayal. A friend recently directed the play in town, but I wouldn't go see it. Nothing against their version, of course, I just prefer to think of Billie Dawn as portrayed by you.
I suppose that I can confess at this point, Judy, that I have a bit of a crush on you. Okay, I have a big crush on you. Not only are you incredibly beautiful and talented, but you're courageous and strong. I'm also very attracted to the fact that, on top of all your other graces, your I.Q. is higher than mine. 172. Wow!
I would really love to meet you sometime and talk about your experiences in Hollywood and on Broadway (maybe you'd let me hold your Tony award, just for a minute).
Unfortunately, this world lost you to breast cancer in 1965 - a little over eight years before I was born. This fact weighs heavily on me, and I watch your movies with just a bit of sadness in my heart (much as you always manage to make me laugh as well).
I'm sorry there wasn't a cure then. We still don't have one now, but we're working on it. There are lots of organizations mobilized to fight breast cancer. I linked to three of them on my Twitter page today, in fact, and I will do the same next Saturday.
I'm even turning my blog pink for the rest of the month to show my support.
There are millions of us, and we will find a cure, because we all have personal reasons for taking up the fight.
You are one of mine.
Thank you, Judy. You inspire me.

Your Biggest Fan,

The Big Bad Wolf

Save the World Saturday: STC in Asia Pacific

Okay, big Twitter/MySpace/Facebook/Wolf Blog crossover today because I'm trying to reach my widest audience possible.
Today is "Save the World Saturday" on my Twitter page. (Seventy followers and counting. Yeah, I'm a rock star.) My Twitter piglets (Twitlets?) know that this is the day of the week when I highlight one of my favorite charities.
I was going to devote this month's tweets to cancer charities given that this is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and I still will, but I wanted to give some space to something that is extremely timely and urgent.
Many of you have seen in the news about everything that's gone down in Asia Pacific recently: tropical storms and flooding in the Phillippines and Vietnam, earthquakes in Indonesia, the tsunami in American Samoa.
A lot of people are out of their homes - a lot of children are out of their homes.
Fortunately, Save the Children already has a strong presence in these areas, so there is a channel through which we can help.
In addition to offering individual sponsorships of needy children (you may recall me mentioning Mamtaz in my Charity Navigator post), STC has the Children's Emergency Fund set up to help out with disaster situations like these.
If you can help out at all, it is certainly needed right now. I would also encourage you to look over Save The Children's website and consider sponsoring a child. It really is just around $28 per month, and I know that I have enjoyed getting to know my kid and getting letters and e-mails from her updating me on how she is doing. I say this knowing full well that Denver Post reporter John Moore will use it as further evidence of his assertion that I am, in his words, "a cuddly puppy." (Geez, you give a guy one lingering hug . . .)
Save the Children also has Facebook and Twitter presences if you are so inclined.
Please click on the links. Please read the information. Please help in whatever way you can -- even if that's just passing the info along.
Namaste.

On Excusing Roman

Chinatown, Pirates, and Frantic are among my favorite movies. I admire Roman Polanski's work as a director. He has a keen eye and a fearlessness in storytelling.
I do not think that my admiration of him as a director necessitates my admiring him as a man or even a human being. I do not think that his ability or talent should make him immune from consequence.
He raped a thirteen-year-old girl. He plead guilty to having done so. In a time before hordes of paparazzi roamed the streets, before "Extra", "TMZ", and the E! Channel, and before blogging, The Hollywood machine could not muster enough power or influence or money to sweep his actions under the rug (and I'm sure we can expect that they tried).
He drugged her. He plied her with alcohol. She said no. Repeatedly. He didn't care. She was thirteen.
(If you want the more sordid details, Kate Harding wrote an eye-opening column on Salon.com.)
He did it. He confessed to it. He fled the country.
I am surprised at the number of people who are rallying around this man. If he were not an Oscar-winning director, would these people be as willing to gloss over the facts?
Frankly, I'm a little tired of this notion that "artists" need to be excused from real-life consequences, as though being creative diminishes one's capacity in some way.
I once had an actor throw a temper tantrum in the middle of rehearsal, storm out of the theatre, and refuse to return for the rest of the day.
I began to make a list of possible replacements for him, but the producer said, "Oh, he's just being an actor."
I said, "No, those people who just had to witness that display and are still standing there ready to go on are being actors. He is being a child."
Alas, he didn't get fired that day. (He got fired a week later for calling one of the actresses at her workplace and making inappropriate advances. The producer had nothing to interject with that time.)
Being an artist isn't easy. It requires a type of thinking for which we are not trained in our rearing. Artistry requires a leap out of one's comfort zone - or it should if it's to be worthwhile.
The creative among us deserve respect for their creativity, but not excuses for their bad behavior.

A Ringing in My Ears

Are we really back to this again? Is it really necessary to have this discussion again?
Recently, a preview performance of A Steady Rain was interrupted by a ringing cell phone. Here's the article which includes video, no doubt taken (illegally) by another person with a cell phone.
What is the deal here, people? Honestly? Do you remember in the old days (like, ten years ago) when you went to see a play or a movie and someone wanted to call you, your phone would ring . . . AT HOME. The answering machine would pick up and the caller would either leave you a message or decide that it wasn't really all that important that Aunt Beatrice spilled grape juice on her muumuu and just wait to tell you the next time they saw you.
Forget for a moment (but not for more than a moment) that cell phone use while driving has made people into even worse drivers. (Yes, it has. I've been behind you.)
Forget that quiet coffee houses and libraries (LI-BRAR-IES) are now inundated by technocratic tools loudly explaining the details of their latest prostate exam (which could no doubt only be performed after first dislodging their heads) to some poor sap who is trying to negotiate 5:00 I-25 traffic going, "uh-huh, uh-huh, really? just how cold are we talking here?"
I have said before that I find it increasingly difficult to enjoy a movie anymore for the multitude of little blue text screens shining throughout the theatre, and the woman trying to quietly explain the plot of the movie into her phone (no doubt to somebody on I-70), not to mention the jarring sound coming from the pocket of the guy two seats over who had put his phone on "vibrate" then put it in the same pocket as his keys and collection of buffalo-head nickels.
I went into a movie theatre for the first time in months just last week. It was a showing of Rashomon at the Starz Film Center. Do you know where my phone was? In my car.
I like to tweet as much as anybody (okay not as much as John Mayer and Brent Spiner, but you know what I mean.) I sent a tweet from the Aurora Fox last night when I went to see Paragon's Miscast. I sent it during intermission. Then, I turned my phone back OFF and walked down the stairs to have a wonderful conversation with an aspiring playwright for the remainder of the break.
It's not that hard, and if there is something pressing enough that you can't risk missing a call, do what we did back in the olden times (the 90's). Stay home, and give the tickets to someone who doesn't have a pending emergency.
What I find the most perplexing is that activities that once were performed in noncommunicative silence (grocery shopping, watching a movie or a play, driving to work, pumping gas) now suddenly need to be filled with conversation. Is there really that much more that needs to be talked about that wasn't there fifteen years ago? Or, is it more likely that we are so seduced by this new technology that we now prioritize insignificant minutiae in order to have something to talk or text about into these little devices that now own us. (That receipt from the Apple store is just there to let you think that you're in charge. You're not as free as you think, Pseudolus.)
So what do we embrace to fill the space? Gossip. Look around you. What's on the magazine covers? What were the subjects of your last ten phone conversations? How many of them, if not wholly insignificant and pointless, contained gossip?
I don't want to moralize too much here. The world is getting smaller. Secrets and privacy are becoming more and more a thing of the past. It's inevitable.
I do think, however, that it's being hurried along by that little square thing on your. . . oh, what? No, go ahead and answer it.
I'll wait.