London 2009 - Part 2

I'm only now getting a chance to catch up on writing about some of my activities in England. There was one shared computer at the hotel, and I hated to blog while people were waiting to use it. That said, there was one rather impertinent young lady who didn't give a hoot and was blogging incessantly, even while people were waiting to use the computer. Such nerve! In any case, I'm catching up now, writing this from my Brooklyn abode.

The image you see here is one of my favorite paintings by John William Waterhouse, Saint Eulalia (1885). The painting is owned by the Tate, but it currently is hanging at the Royal Academy for the exhibition J.W. Waterhouse: The Modern Pre-Raphaelite. If you think you’ve heard about Waterhouse on this blog before, you’re correct. Back in November I wrote about Elizabeth Prettejohn, one of the curators who gave a talk about the exhibition during the NAVSA conference at Yale. Last Friday morning I had coffee with another of the curators, Peter Trippi (who also was a guest speaker at the Why Victorian Art? symposium), and then I visited the exhibition. The show at the RA is smaller than it was in its first venue in The Netherlands, which is unfortunate, but it still is excellent. The exhibition is biographical in nature and the works unfold chronologically from about 1870 to his death in 1917. Waterhouse is one of the later Pre-Raphaelites. He was older than others in the original Brotherhood (Millais, Rossetti, etc.), so Waterhouse’s take on their style comes off seeming nostalgic. Yet, he also gives it his own spin. His subjects respond more to issues of the day like women's rights and the surging interest in the occult. In addition, his brushstroke is looser and broader than the tight, linear style associated with Pre-Raphaelitism, suggesting his awareness of new influences coming from France with plein-aire painting, Naturalism, and Impressionism. The exhibition consists of 40 oil paintings with subjects ranging from classical literature to Arthurian lore, but it's complimented by drawings and illustrated books. I find Saint Eulalia to be an amazing picture. She was an early Christian who refused to worship the pagan gods and was martyred for her beliefs. According to legend, when Eulalia died, a dove miraculously sprang from her mouth and it began to snow. The dove then represents her soul and the snow becomes a metaphor for the passing of nature in winter. Compositionally, the picture hangs so that you stare at the very center. But the foreshortening at the bottom means you're in the role of a viewer, looking down at the dead girl, whose appearance is both erotic and eerie. Her hair is splayed out, suggesting blood on an otherwise pure corpse. Your eyes move over her naked breasts and follow her limbs upward, where they suddenly point to the dove whose wings unfurl and lead your gaze toward the white space in the center and the shrouded girl in white who gazes at her. It is as if only this young girl and you the viewer have witnessed the miracle. It's an incredible painting and even more impressive in person. If you're in London, I highly recommend you look for it. You can see the exhibition until mid-September, and then it moves to Montreal.

Afterwards, I visited Apsley House, the home of the Duke of Wellington (1769-1852). General Arthur Wellesley (as he was known) was raised to the peerage after his military successes against Napoleon, finally defeating him at the historic Battle of Waterloo in 1815. Wellington remains to this day one of England’s great military heroes (and in case you’re wondering, yes, he designed the utilitarian boots that became a pseudo-fashion trend and were named for him). Upon buying Apsley House, located just down the block from Buckingham Palace, he expanded and redecorated it to reflect the Neoclassical Georgian taste of the time. He inherited many works of art from the fallen Napoleonic monarchies, including one of the best pictures in the collection, The Waterseller of Seville (c.1620) by Velázquez. The most famous work in the collection, however, is probably the work seen here, Canova’s monumental nude sculpture of Napoleon as Mars the Peacemaker (1802-6). The sculpture was commissioned by the Emperor, but when he saw it he was embarrassed by the nudity and unhappy that it did not represent his true, calm demeanor (so he believed). It was only after the Napoleonic Wars were over that the figure was bought by the British crown and given to Wellington as war booty for defeating the French. One funny bit about the statue’s history, however, is narrated by the present Duke on the audio guide to the house. Properties near the house were bombed by Germans during World War II, and Apsley House suffered some damage. The only resident in the house at the time was the housekeeper, Mrs. Dow. Fortunately, she was fine, but for her insistence that of all the cleaning up to be done, they first needed to replace the statue’s fig leaf, which had blown off during the bombing and was now revealing the statue in all its apparently indecent glory.

My friend CC came down from York for one night while I was in London. I had made arrangements for us to tour two private art collections. (I’m purposely not saying anymore about this to protect the privacy of the owners, but rest assured it was very posh and we saw beautiful works of art.) We also met up with our friend DE, and over a lovely Italian dinner at Paradiso we gabbed and gossiped about art history and other fun things.

London 2009 - Part 1

I cannot tell you how surprised I was that my plane not only took off early from JFK last night, but it also was only half-full and we got into Heathrow early this morning. When I got to my hotel at the Ridgemount Hotel, my room wasn't ready yet, so I went out for coffee and decided to head to the National Gallery, which I had not been to since 2005. It's always great to see some of their incredible masterworks of art. Some that remain memorable with each visit are Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne (c.1525), Holbein's The Spanish Ambassadors (c.1535), Gainsborough's A Morning Walk (c.1785), Constable's The Hay Wain (1821), and Delaroche's Execution of Jane Grey (1833). There was also a special exhibition on 19th-century French landscape painting from Corot to Monet, all works from their permanent collection. I'm not typically a big fan of landscape painting, but the sketches by Corot, not to mention his Times of Day series, are beautiful, and the Barbizon landscape paintings by Diaz de la Peña are luminescent and simply gorgeous. The exhibition closes in September.

I also went to St. Paul's Cathedral today, which Christopher Wren designed after the 1666 Great Fire. It's a spectacular Baroque cathedral, but my purpose was to see all the 18th-century and 19th-century sepulchral monuments to soldiers from the Napoleonic Wars. I have to confess some of them are a bit over the top, but others are quite lovely in their Neoclassicism. Shockingly, though, the cathedral has an active gift shop that sells everything imaginable, but not a book about the sculpture. There aren't even postcards of the monuments. And of course you can't take pictures inside. Most frustrating, I can tell you!

I also went to the National Portrait Gallery this evening. I cannot even remember the last time I was there, but it was definitely worth visiting again. Seeing all the portraits of monarchs like Elizabeth I and her father Henry VIII was worth it. They have the entire museum arranged so that if you follow it room-by-room numerically, you see all the faces of British history, including monarchs, members of Parliament, artists, writers, you name it. I also went there today, though, because I wanted to see a special exhibition there that just opened a few weeks ago: Gay Icons. I think I may write a separate post about the exhibition specifically because there is quite a bit to talk about, but it was an interesting visual assessment that considers who is a gay icon and why people perceive others may or may not be a gay icon (even if they're not gay). That exhibition closes in October.

Merry Old England

I'm flying to England tomorrow, so postings on bklynbiblio may be sporadic. I'll be in London most of the time (where I may see Tower Bridge again; I took this picture of it during my visit last year). I am planning to see exhibitions at the Royal Academy, the British Library, and the Victoria & Albert Museum, among other places. I'll also be at a conference over the weekend in Bristol, a city I have not visited before, so that should be interesting. I'm looking forward to seeing my friends CC and DE in London too. I'm sure I'll have lots to write about very soon. Cheers!

Brooklyn Botanic Garden Revisited

On Thursday morning, I decided to relax at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and took the pictures you see here. The BBG is turning out to be one of my favorite places in NYC (you may recall from a few months ago my pictures of the cherry blossoms). As you can see, the lilies are in full bloom. At the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden, I sat in the bamboo pavilion and watched the koi for quite some time. It's fascinating to see them swim about, their enormous heads, eyes, and mouths bubbling from just below the surface of the water. They move in and out among one other like a form of synchronized swimming. Most are black, but others are gold, white, orange, or a motley of colors combined. Their eating habits can be a bit bizarre. Every so often a group will swarm with their mouths opening and closing above the water. It can look like a scene of sucker monsters from a horror movie if it weren't so funny to watch. I discovered that they make noise too. At first I thought it was a water filtration system, but then I was startled to realize some of the koi were actually eating algae off the wooden posts along the water bank. They were making this loud brushing-sucking noise as they used their lips to brush the algae off the posts and take it in. Who knew they had such powerful lips!?

This Torii gate points to a Shinto shrine nestled in the pine trees above the pond, dedicating the area to the god of the harvest. The characters on the gate read "Dai-myo-jin," Great Illuminating Deity, or Spirit of Light (according to the sign outside the bamboo pavilion; I can't read Japanese).

Just nearby the Japanese garden is the Celebrity Path. This is a trail with stepping-stones inscribed with the names of famous Brooklynites past and present. There are stones for poets like Walt Whitman, artists like Lee Krasner, actors like Marisa Tomei, and then of course there is one of the most important Brooklynites...


The lotus blossoms were also in bloom. In Eastern religions, the lotus plant is associated with the Buddha's teachings. Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are often shown in art sitting on a lily pad and holding flowering lotus buds. The lotus shows how the teaching of the Buddha grows out from the murky mud of the materialistic world, but rests above this on the water's surface, then blossoms and points to the great spiritual heavens of Nirvana.

Do you know how hard it is to get a dragonfly to sit still and pose for a picture? I'm very happy this one came out.

Return of the "Happy Dog"

One of the earliest posts on bklynbiblio was a recap of my August 2008 trip to Provincetown, where I wrote about Coffey Men, a boutique with original designs by the talented men's fashion designer Scott Coffey. Scott recently posted photos of some of his latest looks for men, including the return of the Happy Dog. I love this t-shirt! Mine is navy with an orange dog. This one is spring green with a blue dog, and still only $24. There are other colors too. He also has mermaids, elephants, and other great logos. Check out all Scott's stuff at http://coffeymen.blogspot.com/.

Review: Brüno

Last night (thanks to DC for coordinating things), a group of us gay boys went to see Brüno (here's a link to the official trailer; embedding was disabled on YouTube). I would have thought everyone would know about this movie, but a few days ago I was having dinner with a gay friend from out of town and he didn’t know anything about it. I also suspect people like my father are also unaware of it, and in his case maybe it’s better if we keep it that way. The movie is a mocumentary about the gay Austrian fashionista Brüno and his goal to become an international celebrity. After crashing (quite literally) the Prada show in Milano wearing a prototype Velcro suit, he’s blackballed (but not the way he likes) from the fashion industry. This doesn’t stop Brüno from wanting to be famous. He goes to Los Angeles and from there drama ensues. The movie shoots off like a rocket and performs at high-octane for 90 minutes (which he loves). There is never a release (he likes releases), and when it ends you’re filled with a sense of heightened anxiety, as if you’re still waiting for the climax (uh-huh!), which comes when you’re in a group (yeah baby!) later on chatting about the movie. (Okay, I promise, no more double entendres).

Brüno stars Sacha Baron Cohen from Borat fame. Both Brüno and Borat are characters in his comedic repertoire. Cohen has been demonstrative in promoting this new film around Europe and North America, staging public events wearing many of his often-revealing and frequently-disturbing outfits (the pink bull costume with swinging appendage is among the more memorable). For the record, let me point out that I have not seen Borat nor have I ever seen the television portrayals of his characters, so this was my first true experience with Cohen. To his credit as writer and actor, the film is hilarious. It is outrageous, shocking, over-the-top, and downright hysterical. Everyone in the theater was laughing through the entire film. It has some great one-liners, like when Brüno asks the defense instructor in his Austrian accent, “How do you defend yourself against a man with a dildo?”, and when the big-breasted dominatrix exclaims, “Suck my spike!” The clincher with Cohen’s work is that parts of it are unscripted. People think his character is real and so they participate in his interviews. Some cannot take it and walk away, but others just don’t seem to know what’s real or not, making them look idiotic. The one scene where Brüno interviews Paula Abdul is an excellent example. She’s sitting on…how shall we call it?...“mobile Mexican furniture,” and you can see that she’s uncertain if this interview is real or staged, although she doesn’t seem too disturbed to be sitting on a Mexican’s back. There was another scene in the film where he interviews LaToya Jackson, but this was edited out after Michael Jackson’s death. (I’m sure it will return on the DVD version.) The point of scenes like these is to showcase Brüno’s outrageousness, but it’s also to poke fun at celebrity culture.

Indeed, that is the crux of the film. By appropriating an excessively flamboyant character and showcasing all (and I do mean all) of his sexual antics as shock-extremism, Brüno tries to make you feel uncomfortable. It works, more than you ever wanted to know, and it continues to get worse as the movie progresses. His desire to make peace between Israel and Palestine, for instance, will have you staring at the screen with your jaw hanging open. (Who knew that hummus and Hamas weren’t the same thing!?) The fact that Cohen actually got out of the Middle East alive is shocking. Cohen pokes fun at celebrity charities, the adoption of African babies, blonds, rednecks, sexuality, and the religious right. Some of the best scenes are when he has a conversation with a preacher who is going to help Brüno become straight, or when he goes hunting with a group of rednecks. When you hear the preacher speak—and presumably this isn’t staged—you cannot believe that people like this actually exist in America.

Cohen uses Brüno to draw attention to things that make mainstream society uncomfortable (specifically flamboyant homosexuality and gay sex), and then he shows us how ridiculous that discomfort is when seen against the kaleidoscope of other things going on in America and the world. What’s most disturbing, however, is that the more hilarious you find all of it, the more disturbing you realize it also is. Hatred against homosexuals in this country has not diminished by any means. This film challenges heteronormativity by instilling discomfort in the most straight of straight people. From that perspective then, it’s a good thing. Or is it?

In a place like New York City, we easily can sit in a movie theater in Chelsea with an audience made up largely of gay men and watch this movie. We can greet one another with hugs and kisses in friendship and hold hands as couples. We can guffaw and scream out in laughter too, because we’re protected in our gay-friendly neighborhood and open-minded urban environment. But would we laugh so hard if we lived in the Bible-belt South? Would the movie have sold out, or even played at all? Would we have entered the theater unscathed, or would we have had to cross a picket line of fundamentalist Christians boycotting the theater, declaring we were sinners and going to hell? There are advantages living in a progressive environment where we can laugh aloud at what is, essentially, a mirror. Brüno is a reflection of the gay population. Admittedly, this is a reflection seen in a warped, fun house-like mirror, but he is still a form of us. And the world in which he sets the film is the world in which we live, a world filled with ignorance, intolerance, fear, and anger. One can only hope that the message this movie sends out will be received in a positive way. Brüno is satire. It is meant to poke fun at issues so as to minimize their intensity. But will audiences outside of largely urban environments understand that? Or will Brüno be forever more nothing but a freak to be laughed at?

Freak or gay Wünderkind, it’s worth remembering that Brüno is simply a character, a costume worn by a straight comedian. Is that partly why we find this so funny, because we know the man behind the mask is straight? Does it make him and his message safer for middle America? Since the mid-1990s, there has been an ever-increasing encroachment of things formerly seen as aspects of gay culture into the mainstream: tribal tattooing, gym physiques, fashion apparel, and so on. The metrosexual look had its origins in women wanting their men to look as fashionable as their gay male friends. Sexy straight models from Mark Wahlberg to David Beckham have been hired to sell underwear ads targeted in large part to gay men with their supposedly expendable income. Television has been doing this for some time now as well, with straight Eric McCormack playing gay Will on Will & Grace. Hollywood is churning out male-male relationship comedies too, like the recent Paul Rudd movie I Love You, Man with its theme of man-dating. Why are major Hollywood studios willing to support gay-themed movies when they are produced and star straight men, when true “gay” movies like Were the World Mine (see my review) and Lilies barely register on the radar. Even those that are sponsored by major studios, like Brokeback Mountain and Philadelphia, had to star straight actors in order to succeed in America. The world of pornography also has seen straight appropriations of gay sexuality. No longer is simply being gay enough for porn websites. Now so-called straight guys can group masturbate and have sex with each other because they’re being paid for it, implying that if they choose to do it and cash is involved then they’re not gay. Don’t disregard this reference to pornography, because even that once-taboo subject is now subjected to appropriation by the straight community. The other “gay” film premiering this weekend, Humpday, has two straight male friends dare themselves to enter an amateur gay porn contest, with the previews showing them acting squeamish by having to do something as shocking as kiss one another. All of these examples demonstrate the appropriation of queer culture by the straight community, but for a specific purpose: control. The more that heterosexual male culture appropriates queer culture, the more straight men control gay men. The more they can laugh at homosexuality, the more they can subjugate it. And once they govern it, they never have to accept it or even tolerate it. They can quash it.

Some may think I’m exaggerating, but how would we react if Brüno were real, or if Cohen was gay? I suspect things would be somewhat different. Mind you, everyone would still laugh. How could you not? Brüno is so flamboyant he makes Liberace and RuPaul look like Harley Davidson-riding rock stars. He is an exaggeration, not just of humanity but of homosexuality. Reinforcing his hyperbole as a gay person is his absence from a gay community. I would have liked to have seen Brüno interacting with gay people in the movie. Placing him in, say, a parade during Gay Pride, or having him interact with people at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center, would have added to the hilarity. Or would it? Would that mean he would be making fun of gays and lesbians too? Or is he already doing that simply be being Brüno? How would we react if Brüno was in our midst? Do gay men (let alone lesbians) really want someone like Brüno around them? Or are they ultimately as horrified by the reality of a Brüno as the redneck hunters on the camping trip are with him? The mixed reception in the GLBTQ community has shown that he is controversial. And remember we’re talking about a fictional character! Indeed, Brüno the flamboyant queen can only be a caricature. He cannot be real, because in truth no one (except for his sidekick Lutz, who obviously needs therapy) can truly tolerate him, not for real. In that sense, then, Brüno stands alone. By isolating him from other gays and lesbians, he becomes a pseudo-gay Übermensch, someone beyond the boundaries of all things queer. But for the average American Joe Plumber, seen frequently, and ridiculed frequently, in this film, Brüno is just another fucking faggot. He becomes a stand-in for all gay people. That frightens me.

These are all important issues whether one sees them in this film or not. As my friend JM said to me after the movie, it’s just a comedy. He seriously doubts Cohen had anything even remotely like these issues in mind. Fair enough, I can concede to that. After all, the movie will make you laugh your ass off, so you should definitely see it. But I challenge you as the viewer also to see that there is more to this movie than just a comedy, and its timing is appropriate in some ways. Gay marriage is debated heatedly across this country, and “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” is still crucifying well-educated men and women who joined the military out of pride for the United States. We can laugh all we want at the issues satirized in this film, in particular those regarding homosexuality, but it’s the reception of what we see that really is at stake here. Laugh all you want, but never forget what is behind the laughter.

Review: Were the World Mine

When it comes to gay-themed movies, I'm continuously horrified by how bad so many of them are. I'm not sure if it's that they are usually low-budget (i.e. few major studios want to fund such risky ventures) and thus come off amateurish, or if the actors/writers/directors are just too damn pig-headed to have people other than their friends give them feedback on their work, which might actually improve the storylines and production. I don't want to seem hypercritical though. There are some great gay movies. Two that immediately come to mind are the intensely lush period drama Lilies (1996) and the hysterical comedy But I'm a Cheerleader (1999). To this list of great gay movies I am adding Were the World Mine, which was released in theaters last year and is now out on DVD. It has won quite a few GLBTQ film awards and has been a favorite with audiences since its release. You can visit the film's official website at http://www.weretheworldminefilm.com/.

The story is a gay fantasia with a plot tagline that reads: "If you had a love-potion, who would you make fall madly in love with you?" Timothy, a gay student at an all-boys high school, is teased as the queer misfit, but when he decides to try out for the school play of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, he learns how a little magic can be both good and bad. The acting is solid. Tanner Cohen (Timothy) and his love interest Nathaniel David Becker (Jonathon) are the main boys around him the story revolves. It helps that they're both absolutely adorable and have amazing "sets of pipes" (to quote Jonathon). Singing Jessica Fogle's original music in an angelic tenor/falsetto range, you cannot help but stop, listen, and find yourself drawn into their world. I downloaded the soundtrack afterwards and for the past few weeks still keep finding myself humming lines, such as the brief but beautiful "Oh Timothy" and "What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?"

All of this takes into consideration then the writing by director Tom Gustafson and co-author Cory James Krueckeberg. They've brought together a good script, but then again, they are borrowing on Shakespeare, so it's difficult to go wrong with one of the greatest authors of the English language. Indeed, what's fascinating to me from an academic perspective is their use of Shakespeare throughout the play, particularly in the songs. They don't adapt specific monologues, but combine the words of various characters. (And if you're questioning how I know this, I actually did run out after seeing the movie to buy a copy of Shakespeare's play and reread it.) As a result of this textual shuffle, no single character in the film comes across as one individual figure from Shakespeare's play. They all take on various roles, male, female, and faerie, and this fluctuating gender/sexual transference works perfectly with a story about magic, fantasy, and social acceptance for all forms of love. For instance, in the main song "Were the World Mine," the following lines of Shakespeare phrases are just some of the words that appear in the song as it's sung by Timothy and Jonathon:

(Act 1, Scene 1)
Helena: My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, / My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. / Were the world mine.
(Act III, Scene 1)
Bottom: I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me, to fright me, if they could ... and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. ...
Titania: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? ... I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
(Act III, Scene 2)
Puck: Up and down, up and down, / I will lead them up and down.

I've included two video clips from YouTube. The first is the song "Were the World Mine." The dance segment toward the end is a bit hokey so it's okay to laugh at it, but the rest of it is quite engaging. The second video clip is the trailer for the movie. Both definitely set the tone for the film, so enjoy. As for me, I have a flower to conjure up to make a certain someone fall in love with me...

The Passing of Mollie Sugden

Unless you're a fan of British television, you probably missed the news that Mollie Sugden passed away on July 1st at the age of 86. Take one look at the picture of her with blue hair that you see here, and you quickly realize Sugden was one of the best things about 1970s British television. She was part of the ensemble cast of Are You Being Served?, and with co-star John Inman (Mr. Humphries) she was arguably the best part of this show. Sugden played the middle-aged, divorced Mrs. Slocombe, one of the workers at Grace Brothers department store. Her co-workers included her younger, sexy assistant, Miss Brahms, and the aforementioned Mr. Humphries, the flamboyantly gay salesman who worked in men's trousers. Mrs. Slocombe regularly appeared with a new shocking hair color in each episode and frequently expressed concerns about her "pussy," i.e. her cat. Watching the show now, one of the things that strikes me is how much it parodied British class relations. Mrs. Slocombe, for instance, pretended she was middle class when in fact she was as working class as the Cockney Miss Brahms. The other thing that strikes me about the show is how much it objectified women, but then again American shows from the same time period, like Three's Company did the exact same thing. Are You Being Served? holds up well and is quite funny. The comedy is slapstick, but the double entendres make it hilarious, especially when expressed by Mrs. Slocombe and Mr. Humphries. Sadly, Sugden was one of the last surviving members of the show. Sugden was a television actress, having done other British comedies in her career, but she'll always be remembered best for playing Mrs. Slocombe. For more about Sugden's life and career, you can read her obituary from the Telegraph. You usually can find episodes of the show on PBS, but here are a few clips from YouTube. The first is a scene from an episode when Grace Brothers embarks on "German Week," and at the end the staff gather to perform the German dance in native costume. Watch for Sugden in the center dancing with Captain Peacock, and don't miss Mr. Humphries dancing with Mr. Lucas, especially the very end. The second is a video montage put together by Kingsley308 with clips of Mrs. Slocombe talking about her pussy.

Gay Pride 2009

This past weekend was Gay Pride. Here in NYC, it’s always the last Sunday in June to commemorate the Stonewall riots that jettisoned the gay rights movement in 1969. What makes this year special is that it was the 40th anniversary of the riots. The picture you see here (courtesy of the New York Blade) shows Governor David Paterson, Mayor Michael Bloomberg, and City Council Speaker Christine Quinn (our first lesbian council member) all marching at the head of the parade on Sunday. I must admit, it’s a great thing to live in a city where we have leadership in support of gay and lesbian rights. It gives you a sense of comfort that you cannot find in other parts of the country or world.

That said, I’m not very political, as readers of bklynbiblio know by now. I’ve never marched in a gay rights rally and I doubt I ever will. It’s just not my thing. I prefer education, not politics, as a way to make a difference. And while it would be great to see anti-gay discrimination and homophobia disappear immediately, sometimes I feel like my apolitical, education-based perspective allows me to have more patience about these issues. Things take time. Gay marriage and the dismissal of “don’t ask, don’t tell” won’t happen over night, or possibly even in 2009. They are simply too controversial for some people. But they will happen, in due time. You cannot change people’s minds by snapping your fingers, especially when religion is the foundation of their beliefs. And rather than be angered by these attitudes, I believe we should reflect on them and work to bring people around through education. Let’s face it, if it were so easy to change people’s minds, every gay man and lesbian would have been made straight by their parents ages ago. Instead, for hopefully many of us, our parents now accept and understand us, but it took them time as well. Don’t misunderstand me. I abhor intolerance. I’m also very disturbed by the ever-increasing number of gay hate crimes that have been happening all over the place. There was at least one gay bashing in Chelsea after the parade, and reports come in all the time on various gay news agencies and blogs about more beatings (note that rarely do these ever appear on mainstream news sites). But I believe we have to work through education to make people realize that we all deserve equal rights and true acceptance beyond tolerance. It will happen, with time.

For me Gay Pride is about hanging out with my friends, just relaxing and having fun. This year, friends visited from Texas and a group of us hung out all weekend. We did dinner and drinks on Saturday night, and we watched the parade march down Fifth Avenue (with thousands of other people) for over 3 hours on Sunday afternoon (fortunately from a lovely shady and elevated spot). There was all the expected at the parade: civil rights activists, drag queens, muscle boys, dykes on bikes, and everything in-between, with floats proclaiming political messages or just pulsating dance music. All in all, it was a fun afternoon.

For more on the parade and festivities, check out the following sites: a great list of many sites regarding Pride on Andy Towleroad's blog; a few more pictures from the New York Blade; Jeremy W. Peters's New York Times article "Gay Marriage Lost in Shuffle of Divided Senate" accompanied by a few more pictures deals with NY politics; and even Google was in on it, with a blog post and pictures of their employees marching and participating in gay pride events around the world.

Rome 2009 - Part 3

The final countdown of my Top 10 Favorite Things about Rome 2009…

4. Andersen Museum. If you go just north-northwest of the Piazza del Popolo (that's the piazza in the picture above) and look for Via P.S. Mancini, you’ll find a lovely pink palazzo that houses the Hendrik Christian Andersen Museum. Affiliated with Italy’s National Gallery of Modern Art, this museum is one of the hidden gems of Rome, and it was the first time that even Luca had been there when we visited. Andersen (1872-1940) was born in Norway. He emigrated with his family to America, but eventually made his way to Rome to study sculpture and lived there the rest of his life. Andersen is little known today but for those who are fans of the novelist Henry James, who met Andersen in Rome in the late 1890s when James was in his 50s and Andersen in his 20s. The two became lovers of a sort, as evidenced by their exchange of letters. The museum was once Andersen’s studio and it now houses many of his full-size models and finished works. The work you see here, for instance, is a picture I took of his model for Evening, a sculptural group from around 1907 for the planned Fountain of Life that was never completed. These erotic figures are larger-than-life, and their idealized nudity reveals Andersen’s affinity for classicism, but on a superhuman level. This isn’t the delicate sensuality of Canova, but the sublime forms of Michelangelo. Yet, their delicately harmonic bodies show his knowledge of Carpeaux and Rodin, and thus betray his true interest: abstracting the motion of the body, like music being performed for you. The museum is filled with these enormous bodies, to the point that it almost overwhelms you. But a visit here is worth the extra few minutes of walking, if for no other reason than you’ll be the only one in the museum, and it’s in a beautiful upscale neighborhood without a tourist in sight.

3. Caravaggio. If GianLorenzo Bernini is one of the leading artists of Baroque Rome (see #8 on my list), the other is undoubtedly Caravaggio (ca. 1571-1610). This artist’s reputation precedes him. He was bisexual, an alcoholic, and a murderer, and yet Caravaggio also was one of the most prized artists of cardinals and churches, despite the frequent controversy of his subjects. Using stark realism and a heightened tenebrism (the effect of light and shadow), Caravaggio helped define artistic drama. His Bacchus at the Uffizi is one of my all-time favorite paintings, and previously I had seen works like David and Goliath at the Villa Borghese. On this trip, however, I finally had an opportunity to see other famous Caravaggio works. At the Palazzo Barberini, paintings like the psychological Narcissus are paired near the serene St. Francis in Meditation, one of the most simplistically spiritual paintings ever. I was unable to see his paintings in the churches near Piazza del Popolo, but the 3 paintings on the life of St. Matthew at San Luigi dei Francesi were worth fighting the crowds to see. Sant’Agostino, however, has another of my favorite Caravaggio paintings, the Madonna of Loreto (left, image courtesy of Web Gallery of Art). This painting was considered controversial in its day because the Madonna and Christ child are unidealized and pushed to the side, literally standing in a doorway with Mary struggling to hold the baby as most young mothers would. Instead of wealthy patrons, there are farmers who worship them (note their filthy feet), adding to the startling realism of the work. Rome is where Caravaggio lived for most of his career. If it wasn’t for him, the spirit of the Baroque never may have happened at all.

2. Local Guides. There’s nothing like having friends and colleagues in other cities. They make site-seeing a new experience. While in Rome on this trip, I met up with Christina, whom I had met at Yale back in April. We had drinks at a fantastic little wine bar not far from the Campo dei Fiori called Coco e Mimi (by the name alone, I’m convinced two drag queens own it). Luca, whom I met at another conference last year at Yale, took me all over Rome, from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church with paintings by Edward Burne-Jones to dinner at a fantastic ristorante called Tre Scalini run by friends of his. Luca’s friend Marcello met up with us one afternoon, and he was the one responsible for giving us the Jesuit tour, not to mention convincing us to visit churches like Sant’Agostino. The best part about having local guides is that you get to see and do things off the beaten path, but their companionship alone also made the week an even more enjoyable experience. Saluti e grazie a Christina, Luca, e Marcello!

1. Cremolato. Just about everyone has heard of gelato, the Italian version of ice cream. Luca took me to San Crispino for some delicious gelato, but then Christina told me I absolutely had to go to Giolitti and I have to admit theirs was better. On my last night, Luca took me outside the city center southeast of Santa Maria Maggiore, into Rome’s Chinatown, for one of the great gelato experiences at Palazzo di Freddo. It’s their equivalent of an ice cream parlor, but they’ve become quite famous and have a few branch gelati parlors around the world. But with all the gelato, Luca outdid himself by introducing me to cremolato. Like gelato, cremolato is cold and delicious, but it’s even more creamy and available in fruit flavors. It tastes like a combination of frozen yogurt and sorbet, but it’s even better than that. Top it with panna (whipped cream), and you’ll think you’re in dessert heaven. We had it at a road-side bar and coffee shop just near the Protestant Cemetery. I had fragoli (strawberry) topped with panna. I swear it was one of the best desserts ever, perfect for a hot afternoon. It was so good, in fact, that it is officially #1 on my list of great things to do in Rome! So next time you’re there, check it out. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.

Rome 2009 - Part 2

Continuing the countdown of my Top 10 Favorite Things about Rome 2009...

7. Palazzi. Everywhere in Italy there are palaces–palazzi–in a classical, Renaissance-style design. You see small signs on one building after another, identifying it as the "Palazzo Ugolino" (or some other such name) with the centuries of its construction. Occasionally you get to see through the main doors of some of these places to discover their inner courtyards with ancient fountains, sculpture, and gardens. Many of these palazzi are now apartments. Others, however, are museums, and I enjoyed going into some of these on this trip. They make for some of the best things to do in Rome, because they are practically empty. Only true art lovers find these places. The picture you see above is one I took of the Palazzo Barberini, constructed by various architects over time from the 1600s. Inside, the historic collection of paintings owned by the Galleria Nazionale dell’Arte Antica includes important works by Raphael, Caravaggio, and others. My interest in this place was that in the 19th-century the Danish sculptor Bertel Thorvalden lived and worked in the theater (later demolished in the 20th-century), and the American sculptor William Wetmore Story lived and worked here as well. I also visited the Palazzo Corsini, which houses another part of the collection of paintings owned by the Galleria Nazionale. The two most superb palazzi I visited on this trip were the Villa Farnesina and the Palazzo Doria Pamphilj. The former is not very large, so a visitor can see it in about 30 minutes. The most beautiful parts of this villa are the frescoes, all of which have been cleaned and conserved to reveal their original brilliance. Two rooms have frescoes by Raphael, including his famous water nymph Galatea. Upstairs the main bedroom has a series of frescoes from the life of Alexander the Great by the Sienese artist Giovanni Antonio Bazzi, better known as Sodoma, who proudly wore this sobriquet as an acknowledged homosexual. The one fresco of the Marriage of Alexander and Roxana is breathtaking with its bright colors and larger-than-life figures, in particular the ephebic, nearly-nude Hephaestion, Alexander’s lover, who reaches out as if to stop him from marrying Roxana (click here to see a picture). The Palazzo Doria Pamphilj is still owned by the same family after hundreds of years. They live in private quarters, but have available for tours many of the public and historic rooms, some dating back to the 1600s. I’m not a huge fan of audio tours, but the one for this palazzo narrated by the family is worth listening to, as they recount personal feelings on their home, art, and the historic events that have taken place in the palazzo. Their painting collection is enormous, although there aren’t too many major works. Most significant is Diego Velázquez’s Portrait of Pope Innocent X (1650), seen here courtesy of the Web Gallery of Art. It is a portrait so stunning in its psychological naturalism that when the Pope saw it, he hated it because it was too realistic. It’s no wonder this picture has influenced artists over the century, including most notably Francis Bacon, about whom I’ve written before on this blog, and on whom there is currently a fantastic exhibition at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

6. The Jesuit Experience. It sounds like a ride at an amusement park or a diorama display at a Christian institution, but in fact I’m referring to the experience of the Church of Il Gesú (the Holy Name of Jesus). The Society of Jesus, or Jesuit Order, was founded by St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556). He received his divine calling to teach and spread the word of God throughout the world. As a result, there are numerous Jesuit schools throughout the world (e.g. Georgetown University), many of which have a reputation for being among the most academically challenging institutions. From early on, the Jesuits also were the first missionaries who traveled to places as far-flung as China and the Americas, sending back to Europe some of the first detailed recordings of what these mysterious lands were like. This particular church, Il Gesú, was Ignatius’s church when he settled in Rome. Under his guidance, it was reconstructed, but not consecrated until 1584. It continued to be decorated in the ever-burgeoning Baroque fashion of the day, ultimately becoming not only the model for all Jesuit churches but also for many Counter-Reformation Catholic churches as well. When I was in Rome, I did not anticipate even going into this church. My friend Luca and I met up with his friend Marcello, and he brought us here. As it turns out, it was one of the best "churchy" afternoons of my trip. Marcello led us into the back rooms where we visited the austere chambers of St. Ignatius. It is the interior of the church, however, that is mind-boggling. The frescoed ceiling by Baciccia, painted 1672-85, incorporates incredible effects of perspective, displaying the apotheosis of the name of Jesus. (I had forgotten my camera that day, so the picture you see here of the ceiling and apse is by earthmagnified on Flickr.) Segments of the ceiling literally poke out as wooden panels, so that painted figures float, extending from the ceiling. Incorporated into this are sculptures of angels in the sinewy curvaceous forms that Bernini made famous. These angels become architectural components, reaching out and holding up what looks like segments of the ceiling, that is heaven itself. Even the architecture fools you with actual three-dimensional columns blend into painted columns and vice-versa. You cannot figure out where illusion begins or ends. And as if that weren’t enough, the entire church is gilded, dazzling you everywhere you walk. The best part, however, was that at 5:30pm on the day of our visit, we were able to watch the visual spectacle of the unveiling of the statue of St. Ignatius. This takes place in an elaborate side chapel where a panel painting about Ignatius and the Jesuits measuring at least 18 feet long is surrounded by sculpted angels, saints, and allegorical figures in marble, lapis lazuli, gold, and silver. A sculpted representation of the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) is at the very top of the display. Recorded music and choral singing begin, suggesting an angelic chorus. Suddenly, a voice resounds and tells the story of St. Ignatius in florid Italian. As each segment of the story is told, spotlights flash on one part of the altar after another. The choir continues to sing between each segment. All of this builds up to the climax, the grand finale, when suddenly in a boisterous exclamation of singing voices, the panel painting rolls downward and shining out from behind is a larger-than-life statue made out of silver and gold of St. Ignatius floating toward heaven. It was nothing less than a total theatrical experience. Mind you, it’s also the gaudiest, most ostentatious form of religious entertainment I’ve ever seen in my life. But you cannot help but get caught up in its theatricality. The combination of music, singing, lights, the dazzling display of art and gilding, and the climactic reveal at the end...it is true Baroque theater at its very best. If you’re fortunate to partake in the Jesuit experience, don’t forget also to visit the even-larger Basilica of St. Ignatius nearby, decorated with Andrea Pozzo’s enormous frescoed ceiling.

5. Hot Italian Men. You knew this was coming! What can I say? Rome has lots of HIMs (Hot Italian Men). You just have to be there and look around. In fact, you’ll get whiplash. And they know you’re looking at them, and they look back at you, longer than Americans usually feel comfortable, to the point that you’re not sure if they’re cruising or testing you, knowing you’re admiring them with their cocky grins and tanned complexions, smelling of some fragrance we haven’t even marketed yet in the States. Their dark hair is perfectly coiffed, their seemingly form-fitted bodies are decked out in Armani jeans, black Dolce & Gabbana belts, and white linen shirts. They saunter down Via del Corso and Via Veneto just waiting to be looked at by silly Americans, who desperately wish they had the guts to dress so confidently. (Note however that this look only works in Italy; dressing like that in America, and you’re a guido named Tony or Frankie who’s trying way too hard.) I could go on talking about HIMs, but let’s face it, if you’ve been there, you know what I mean. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, then go there. Now.

The countdown will continue...

Rome 2009 - Part 1

Ever since I returned from my trip, I've been thinking about what I should blog. After all, how does one describe Italia? Perhaps one just needs to experience it visually. (You can see my photos by clicking here.) But trying to write about Italy is always a challenge. In some ways, it's been done so many times by so many people, that it's almost impossible to say anything new. I read Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Marble Faun (1860) while I was there, and although the story is tedious with an overwrought Romantic plot, Hawthorne's descriptions about Italian culture in the mid-19th century are engaging, and with a city as old as Rome it's not surprising to discover that some of the sites he describes, from the Piazza Spagna to Via del Corso, actually haven't changed that much. And ever since the wealthy began taking Grand Tours to Italy in the 1700s, and the middle classes embarked on their Baedeker trips--I'm now thinking of E.M. Forster's superb book A Room with a View (1908)--it seems difficult to try to describe the country, its people, its food, its art, and its culture, with a freshness and vivacity to enthrall others. In truth, you simply have to experience it first-hand. The fact that I've been to Italy a few times also seems to have stripped away my objectivity to some extent. But I don't want to convey that there's nothing new to say. On the contrary, rather than go through a day-by-day recounting of my trip, I thought it might be more fun to give you a descriptive list of things I encountered, noticed, and took part in on this trip, keeping in mind that I've done many of the main touristy things like the Colosseum in the past, so I'm not counting those things on this list. There is still so much to see and enjoy in Rome, and there were things that I never got around to doing this time. All that means, of course, that I cannot wait to go back! For now, though, I present to you Part 1 of my Top 10 Favorite Things about Rome 2009, counting down from number 10.

10. Pantheon Oculus. Buildings are always covered with scaffolding in Italy because restoration work is ongoing, so the last two times I was in Rome, it was difficult to fully appreciate the Pantheon because of said scaffolding. This time, however, I was able to see the entire interior of the Pantheon gleaning in all its marble brilliance. The Pantheon was reconstructed in the 2nd century by Emperor Hadrian as a temple to all the gods, and later became a church. It is an architectural marvel in many ways, but specifically because of the stone dome that crowns the building. Most impressive about it, however, is the oculus, or eye, that is open to the sky in the middle of the roof. (The image you see here is by IceNineJon on Flickr.) For nearly 2,000 years, this oculus has allowed the elements to enter the temple, and at times it was a practical way of capturing rainwater in a reservoir. But what impressed me most this time about the oculus was the way the sun poured through the oculus. It shines down with a golden-white glow that gleans off the marble floor and walls. In the days before electricity, this was the only source of lighting in the Pantheon (aside from oil lamps), and as the sun shifted in the sky over the course of the day and seasons, it would have helped light one altar after another. Today, it's fascinating to watch people huddle in the glow of the sunshine as the oculus forms a large space on the floor that could hold about 100 people. I returned two other times, just to see the sun in a different location in the space. But the best part isn't the oculus itself, or the sunshine on the floor. It's the incredible light itself that pours down through the space in a spectacle that illuminates the marble and glistens off of natural dust particles filtering through the air. It is nature penetrating the marble mass of human construction, superimposing its power, reminding us of its control over us and our space. It is brilliant, architecturally, spatially, and naturally speaking.

9. Religious Fervor. Okay, so no surprise, Vatican City and the Pope are nestled in the heart of the capital of Italy. Naturally, Catholicism is going to dictate much about the way Italians live and what they believe. There must be over 200 Catholic churches in the center of Rome itself, and there are always people in them. I actually visited on this trip at least 15 churches (I lost count), from the awesomeness of St. Peter's Basilica to the charming simplicity of the early Christian Basilica of Santa Sabina. In many of these churches, there are confessionals with priests hidden in their recesses and signs representing different languages spoken, giving people from around the world opportunities to confess their sins and receive absolution. (Does receiving penance in Rome has a greater significance than doing it in Secaucus, New Jersey, I wonder?) And then there are all the chapels, most set up during the Renaissance and Baroque periods by wealthy families who hired the greatest artists to decorate them. There are more named saints in Rome than I ever encountered in my entire Catholic upbringing in elementary school. And, lest we forget, there are relics--body parts and whole corpses--enshrined in gold chests and glass caskets, and for a mere Euro you can illuminate the electric lighting and say a prayer to the dead saint's body. There are icons as well, like the statue of St. Peter in the Vatican that people have kissed and rubbed for centuries to the point that his bronze foot has morphed into a fin-like appendage. Now, if I seem cynical with all this, I don't mean to be. I was actually fascinated watching all of this. It intrigues me that people are still spiritually enthralled by all of this. You would think the Western world stopped needing relics of saints as symbols of God's power ages ago. And confession? Really...what can the old Italian woman in the confessional really be confessing...that she cheated the fishmonger by stealing an extra octopus for her calamari? But I should point out that this isn't just about Italians. The Americans are perhaps even more zealous. There were numerous groups of Catholic tour buses, and the people who come into these churches collectively pray aloud. I heard prayers spoken aloud in American English by groups of people at least four times during the week. The religious fervor in Rome is amazing. Go into any church and watch the rituals, and mantras, in action. It's worth it.

8. GianLorenzo Bernini. If Florence is a city of the Renaissance, then Rome is a city of the Baroque, and the artist who made it so was GianLorenzo Bernini (1598-1680). Everywhere you look, you will find sculptural and architectural monuments designed by this genius. In true Baroque form, they undulate and sway, they are dramatic, they show action, they draw you into their world and make you feel like they are alive, a frightening concept since so much of his work is larger than life. In the past I had visited the Villa Borghese, where some of his exquisite works are on display. David flings a rock at Goliath, and Apollo chases Daphne as she turns into a tree. Outside St. Peter's, the all-embracing colonnades that surround the piazza are by Bernini. They draw you into the fold of the Church. Inside the Vatican, he also designed the bronze baldacchino over the altar and the Cathedra Petri as a sculptural stage for the throne of St. Peter. He even designed the Fountain of the Four Rivers at Piazza Navona. Even things Bernini did not design show his influence, like the Trevi Fountain. But on this trip I made a point of spending time looking at what is one of the best Bernini experiences: The Ecstasy of St. Teresa in the Cornaro Chapel at Santa Maria della Vittoria, a church which just happened to be around the corner from my apartment. The angel prepares to pierce St. Teresa, just as her autobiography described it, the burning sensation of the angel's arrows entering her with a spiritual ecstasy transcending human sensibility. She floats on a cloud and her face glows in orgiastic delight. (The image you see here is by Nick in exsilio on Flickr.) But to see the sculpture in true Baroque form, one has to understand that it is framed by its own stage, and you realize you are watching a theatrical performance. You are not alone either. On each side, Bernini also carved balconies, and in these balconies are the patrons who commissioned the chapel. They too watch the performance, and once again you are drawn into their world. You are part of the spiritual spectacle. You are made to ache along with St. Teresa. You are invited to participate in her ecstasy. That is Baroque art. That is Bernini. That is Rome.

To be continued...

The Passing of Florence Letterese

I know some of you are waiting for highlights from my recent trip to Italia, which are coming, but I wanted to post first about the passing of someone very special to me, my Aunt Florence. I received the news while I was overseas. Despite the fact that my aunt was 82, the news came as a shock to all of us because she was our family matriarch. She took care of everyone and had a genuine interest in everyone's well-being. Although she had been ill in the past year with heart problems, she was back to her usual self for many months now, running all over taking care of family as usual. She was even still working at the local theater as recently as two years ago. As the eldest daughter in a family living through the Depression in the Bronx, from her early days she was always taking care of everyone, including my mother, who was 16 years younger than her sister and who passed away almost 3 years ago from early onset Alzheimer's disease. The St. Petersburg Times published the following brief obituary for my aunt:

LETTERESE, Florence 82, of St. Petersburg, passed away May 31, at her home. She moved here in 1970 from her native Bronx, NY. She was the lead usher for 15 years at the Mahaffey Theater, delivered Meals on Wheels and belonged to the Italian American Society of St. Petersburg. Survivors include her husband of 37 years, Peter; son, Robert Tully (Susan) of Lincroft, NJ; brother, Edward Pape; sister Jeanne Pepe; granddaughter, Melissa Bennett; great-grandchildren Aidan and Emily Bennett, all of St. Petersburg.

There is a temporary Guest Book as part of the online obituary, and there are some wonderful comments from people who knew her. Here are some of their remarks: "Florence was a very special lady. ... It was always such a pleasure working with her." (Marie R., Tierra Verde); "Florence was always cheerful, caring and kind to everyone. She put other people's needs before her own. She was a strong and intelligent woman. We will miss her very much and are thankful for having known her." (Joe & Nancy B., Oldsmar); "Florence was such a gracious and likable person, a very sweet woman." (Kate Z., Tarpon Springs); "Her willingness to help everyone she knew will always be remembered." (Elizabeth H., St. Petersburg).

Because of traveling back from Italy and oral surgery I had to undergo upon my return (I currently bear a striking resemblance to a chipmunk with swollen cheeks), I was unable to attend the memorial service. My cousins Robert, Melissa, Denise, and Uncle Ed, all spoke, and I now really do regret that I was not there to be with all of them. However, I did email them my own thoughts and Denise read what I wrote, so I'd like to think I was there in spirit. I am going to Florida next week to be with the family. What follows is what I wrote. At the bottom is a photo from last Halloween of Aunt Florence with her granddaughter and great-grandchildren, who also happen to be my godson and goddaughter.

We are all still in shock. Receiving news that someone you love has passed away is never easy to process. In the case of Aunt Florence, it seems even more startling, because she has always been there for all of us in more ways than we can count. The last time I spoke to her was two weeks ago, just before I left for Italy. She called to wish me a safe trip and to enjoy myself. She also told me to make sure I cleaned my apartment before I left, which of course I didn’t do.

Aunt Florence impacted all of our lives. As a baby, she made me a sailor’s suit that I still have hanging in my closet. She even made clothes for our Cabbage Patch dolls! She would send birthday cards and underline phrases to show you how much she felt the sentiment. She baked incredible shortbread and was a wonderful cook. Her tortellini-and-spinach in tomato-and-cream sauce has become legendary in the family. I admired her dedication for doing Meals on Wheels with cousin Alice, and I watched in admiration as she personally held out a hand to each and every member of our family. She made you feel respected, because she listened to everything you had to say. She was so proud of our family and loved every one of us, despite all our quirks. She was a rock of solace. She was the strong one that we all turned to. Her strength of character gave her an incredible ability to offer the unquestioning emotional support we needed in difficult times.

But if there is one thing that I will remember and cherish forever about Aunt Florence, it was four simple words she often said: This too shall pass. No matter how troubled or angry or sad or confused we were, we could go to Aunt Florence and talk to her. She would listen, give you a big hug, and remind you that this too shall pass. Every problem has a solution, and every dark cloud a silver lining. That was Aunt Florence. And so I say to my family, we are all grieving right now, and the pain may be so great at times that it feels like it will never go away, but know that this too shall pass. There will come a time when we will remember Aunt Florence, and we will laugh and we will cry, but time will heal the pain. She never would have wanted us to suffer, so in her honor and memory, let us remember that this too shall pass.

Viva Italia!

Having just written a review of Angels & Demons, by total coincidence bklynbiblio is leaving this afternoon for Italy. I'll be visiting family in Cattolica, a beach town on the Adriatic, and then I head to Rome for a week. Email/Blog access will be via Internet cafes so posts will be intermittent at best, but expect pictures and such when I return. Arrivederci!

Review: Angels & Demons

Back in 2003 when everyone was going crazy reading Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code, I decided instead to read his first book with character Robert Langdon, Harvard professor and symbologist, called Angels & Demons (2000). Despite the initial 50 pages where I had to suspend reality, shortly thereafter I was swept up in the action and adventure, and I thoroughly enjoyed the book. When I finally got around to reading Da Vinci, I was sorely disappointed. The book dragged in comparison, and there was little that anyone who had gone to college and taken some humanities courses, or watched a few documentaries on the History Channel, would not have encountered already. Still, people were in awe of his book. The 2006 film version of Da Vinci was awful, despite the star-studded cast of Tom Hanks, Ian McKellan, and the delectable Audrey Tatou, and the talents of director Ron Howard. As a result, I didn't have high hopes for the film version of Angels & Demons. I went to see it today with my friends KB and TF (aka Mr. and Mrs. New York Portraits). Imagine my surprise when it surpassed all of my expectations.

Although the book is a prequel to Da Vinci, here the film is a sequel. The movie follows the story of Langdon and physicist Vittoria Vetra as they work to interpret symbols, free four cardinals from a mysterious religio-scientific cult called the Illuminati, and find an anti-matter bomb before it blows away all of Vatican City and everyone waiting for news about the election of the next pope. It sounds ridiculously far-fetched, but it actually makes for a great action film. Because of the symbols (in this case pointing angels, the four elements, and sculpture by Bernini), the story plays out like a mystery, which heightens the tension. The film version took some liberties with the book, but they are not so relevant that their absence interferes with the film's development. The film sequences shot in Rome are spectacular, but there was definitely some computer enhancement in some scenes (e.g. the piazza outside St. Peter's is large, but some shots make it seem shockingly stretched for theatrical effect; further research has informed me that many of the interiors, including that of St. Peter's, were all built in studios in Los Angeles). Despite the fact that almost everyone seems to speak English perfectly, it was refreshing to hear lots of Italian and other languages, as if to emphasize the international impact of the storyline. The movie is violent at times (poor KB was squirming in her seat more than once), but I think it's warranted because it plays out the horror of the situation at hand.

I've never been a big fan of Tom Hanks, but he's quite strong in this movie as Langdon. Israeli actress Ayelet Zurer as Vittoria seems natural, but she's relatively downplayed and not very inspiring. The real strength of this film is Ewan McGregor, who plays Camerlengo Patrick McKenna, a priest whose association with the now-deceased pope and temporary position as head of the Vatican is the impetus for much of the story. Admittedly, I'm biased. Ewan McGregor is my dream boyfriend, so I love everything he does. The more I saw him in that black priest gown, the more naughty thoughts kept entering my head. But I digress...

I confess (no pun intended) that what struck me both about the book and now the movie is that while the storyline comes off as being anti-Catholic and anti-Vatican, I found it to be sympathetic. Cardinal Strauss aptly sums up this message in the film when he says to Langdon "The Church is flawed but only because man is flawed. All men, including this one." Having been raised Catholic, and now living as a so-called Recovering Catholic, I must say that this is the sort of message I keep hoping the Church will express, a sense that it acknowledges it's human and is trying to do the best it can for people. Instead, it's entrenched in the trappings of rituals that seem foreign to our modern world. It prefers to stay in the Dark Ages with many of its teachings as well. The fact that they publicly denounced Brown's novels and were not very cooperative in the shooting of both films demonstrates their own fear of the unknown. I guess one can hope for change, but I'm not convinced it's going to happen anytime soon.

The New American Wing

I don't usually write about The Metropolitan Museum of Art to avoid any potential conflict of interest as an employee there, but at times I will make an exception. After two years of major construction, the Charles Engelhard Court and the period rooms of the American Wing Galleries have reopened this week. The wait has been worth it. The courtyard looks spectacular. The major highlight is that many pieces of American sculpture are now be displayed in a way that one can walk around them, as figures in the round should be displayed. Natural lighting from the wall of windows brilliantly illuminates the sculpture and the space brilliantly. The period rooms are fascinating and arranged so that you walk through time from the 1600s into the early 1900s. There are also now computerized information kiosk screens in many galleries that allow you to press on objects so you can learn more about them. All in all, it's a spectacular repositioning of American material culture in a way that's user friendly and feels very 21st century, yet preserves the historicity of the objects and environment. Here is a link to the museum's webpage about the galleries and period rooms. Here's a link to a review and a slideshow of images from The New York Times. The museum's YouTube page has a few videos on it, and I've embedded two of them here. The first one is of director Thomas P. Campbell and curator Morrison H. Heckscher discussing some of the sculpture and the new space. The second is the ribbon cutting ceremony with First Lady Michelle Obama, which was held this past Monday, May 18, 2009. (Heightened security restricted most staff from attending, but I was at a workshop at Yale that day anyway.) This reopening of the American Wing Galleries is the second phase in a three-part renovation. The first part opened in 2007, and the last part (the main painting and sculpture galleries) will reopen in 2011.