Wednesday, November 12, 2014


Kate Forsyth is serious about fairy tales.

The author of several series of magic-infused children's books, she's also in the midst of earning a doctorate in fairy tale retellings. But there is nothing academic or plodding about her marvelous adult historical fantasy, Bitter Greens.

To call it a mere retelling of Rapunzel does not even begin to do justice to this ambitious, absorbing, and imaginative novel.

When I was writing Alias Hook, I didn't realize that the retold fairy tale had become a genre unto itself. I just became so obsessed with the character of James Hook, notorious villain of the Neverland, that I knew I had to tell his story in his own voice.

It seems that Forsyth's book had a similar genesis—her fascination with formidable Frenchwoman Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de la Force, a real-life writer at the court of Louis XIV who set down one of the earliest versions of the Rapunzel tale in 1697.

Indeed, Charlotte-Rose is a lively and irresistible protagonist, as imagined by Forsyth. But hers is only one of three distinct stories of three dynamic women that span two hundred years of European history in the course of the novel.

Their stories are  braided together as intricately as the strands in Rapunzel's rope of red-gold hair.

One protagonist is Margherita, daughter of a mask-maker in Renaissance Venice. At age 12, she's stolen from her parents and imprisoned alone in an impregnable tower by the hundred-year-old witch, La Strega, who uses the girl's virginal blood in black magic rituals to preserve her eternal beauty.

Another protagonist is, of course, Charlotte-Rose herself, who will ultimately write the story in French as Persinette.
A portrait of Charlotte-Rose—I hope!

 (This title, meaning "Little Parsley," refers to the Faustian bargain by which the girl's parents are lured by the witch into staking their daughter's future on a handful of bitter greens.)

Charlotte-Rose's fierce wit and scandalous romances make for compelling reading; the minute she is banished from court and incarcerated in a nunnery in the first chapter, divested of her fancy clothes, her hair, and—quelle horreur!—her writing implements, I was completely hooked!

And, perhaps most unexpectedly, Forsyth's third protagonist is La Strega herself, Selena Leonelli. Daughter of a prostitute mother brutally assaulted before her eyes, apprenticed to a witch, ageless courtesan and dangerous sorceress, she's determined to make the world pay for the injustices done to her.

While none of these women qualifies as the popular modern cliché of the "kick-ass heroine," each is wily, independent, and courageous in her own way. And each of them is worthy of redemption.

Indeed, how the tale of Persinette is revealed to Charlotte-Rose is one of the most satisfying strands in Forsyth's grand design.

Forsyth's prose is gorgeous, her storytelling layered and complex in this splendid, magical feast of a book.

* * *

The cool thing about fairy tales is how open they are to interpretations, by diverse artists as well as writers. Look at these visions of Rapunzel I found! The Arts and Crafts-era illustration (top right) was done by Heinrich Lefler, ca. 1905. Lower right is a lovely painting from a book of Grimms Fairy Tales by F. W. Darlington, ca. 1930s or 40s.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014


JTC delivers witty backstage comedy 'Enter the Guardsman'

It's a plot as old as the theatre itself: a husband disguises himself as another man to try to woo his own wife and test her fidelity. It was already a little creaky when Hungarian dramatist Ferenc Molnar made it the basis of his 1910 farce The Guardsman. But it gets a fresh update, with lively songs and an irresistible backstage setting in Enter the Guardsman, the second offering in Jewel Theatre Company's 10th Anniversary season.

With a witty script by Scott Wentworth, the show features original songs from composer Craig Bohmler and lyricist Marion Adler. JTC fans will rejoice to hear that this is the same trio whose earlier collaboration, the terrific film noir musical, Gunmetal Blues, was a popular JTC production a couple of seasons back.

The source material isn't quite as dynamic for Enter the Guardsman, but director Art Manke's impressive staging, Kent Dorsey's wonderful set and lighting design, and a great cast make for an entertaining evening of theatre.
Pizzo, Ledingham, and one grand illusion of a set!

Set in the early Downton Abbey era just before the First World War, the story unfolds entirely backstage at a theatre where a popular actor and actress hold forth every night onstage. But after six months of marriage in real life, the Actor (David Ledingham) is beginning to wonder if his wife is growing bored with him. He worries that she's reached "the maximum length of her romantic attention span." Indeed, his wife and onstage partner, the Actress (Marcia Pizzo) fears that the routine of married life may be the death of romance.

Prowling about on the edge of the action is the Playwright, played to sly and silky perfection by David Arrow. He acts as both the narrator, drawing the audience into the tale, and instigator for the drama onstage. The accomplished cast manages to turn what is basically a story of insecurity, wanderlust, and mistrust into something light and breezy.

But the real star of the show is Dorsey's brilliant set, a plain brick wall behind the actors' dressing tables on which is projected the interior of a grand theatre—its audience facing us—to which the Actor and Actress play their parts in pantomime, beyond a scrim, whenever they go "onstage" to perform. It's a nifty extra layer of illusion in show that celebrates the place where acting, art, and fantasy collide. (Read more)

Monday, November 10, 2014


Space pilots race to save humanity in thoughtful epic 'Interstellar'

Nobody has ever accused Christopher Nolan of thinking too small. A  master of the brainy action thriller, his films are as crammed with ideas and concepts as vehicle chases, and explosions (are although there are plenty of those too).

From the brilliant intricacies of Memento and The Prestige, to The Dark Knight (the best and broodiest of his Batman trilogy, with its good/evil Doppelganger undercurrent), to the wildly imaginative Inception, Nolan knows how to deliver a feast of a film that keeps viewers chewing over it for days.

His latest, the sci-fi epic, Interstellar, is no exception—although in this case, it takes a lot longer for Nolan's cool, cerebral storytelling to start pulling the viewer in. Those who categorically dislike sci-fi will find much to protest here—like lengthy sequences of gigantic pieces of hardware lumbering through space while orchestral music swells on the soundtrack.
Surf's up on one wet planet in Interstellar.

 Placing star Matthew McConaughey front and center most of the time feels like a naked stab at down-home folksiness to soften the film's cold edges.

And yet, just when the ponderousness of it all threatens to take over the film, the prickly human element that Nolan and his co-screenwriter brother, Jonathan Nolan, have been seeding into the plot from the earliest scenes finally starts to pay off.

The relationship between engineer/astronaut-turned-farmer, Coop (McConaughey), and his daughter (played first by little Mackenzie Foy, and then as an adult by Jessica Chastain, as the narrative time-loops around) is especially nicely wrought.

This work of cautionary speculative fiction begins in a too-near future where climate change is eroding Earth's resources.  Coop  gets a chance to join a team of explorers who will be flying through a newly discovered wormhole on a quest to find another habitable planet for the human race. (Read more in this week's Good Times)

Friday, November 7, 2014


Michael Keaton walked away from the first modern (ie: Tim Burton) Batman franchise after two films. So he's inspired casting for this black comedy about a movie actor named Riggan Thomson, once famed for playing an onscreen superhero called Birdman.

Now, years later, he's trying to reinvent his career and himself—and hopefully rediscover his self-respect along the way—by mounting a Broadway drama. It's a problematic project he's directing from his own adaptation from the downbeat works of Raymond Carver.

This set-up provides the chance for filmmaker Alejandro G. Iñárritu (best known for serious fare like Babel and Biutiful) to deliver his dark, but often scathingly funny observations on pop culture, celebrity, and priorities—in particular, the ongoing battle between art considered serious and substantial, and the philistine popularity of the movies.

"Popularity is the slutty little cousin of prestige," says Mike (Edward Norton), an actor hired at the last minute who might save the show with his brilliance or destroy it with his loose-cannon unpredictability.

Iñárritu brings plenty of nifty style to the table. The film unspools in a series of long, intricately connected (but not nausea-inducing) tracking shots as it follows various characters around through warrens of backstage passages, in and out of dressing rooms, on and offstage, over catwalks, and down Broadway itself.

The soundtrack is mostly edgy percussion, and the hyper-reality of the close way the camera follows characters around in their personal dramas is balanced by a touch of magic realism as Riggan tries to suppress the cynical alter ego—in full Birdman regalia—who follows him everywhere, urging him to forget about acting and become a movie star again.

A few too many false endings dull the story's impact, and the lines between metaphor and narrative get a little blurry (as Riggan may or may not occasionally fly over the Great White Way). But Iñárritu makes cogent points about media and fame and our quest to be "important." He also elicits fine performances, especially from Norton, Emma Stone, as Riggan's recovering druggie daughter, Amy Ryan, as his ex, and Keaton himself.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014


Human nature tested by circumstance in intriguing Force Majeure

The French title of the Swedish film Force Majeure literally means superior force, as in a force of nature, or what we might call and Act of God. It generally refers to an unexpected circumstance completely beyond human control, most often a natural disaster like an earthquake or tsunami. But it's used ironically in this cerebral thriller, where the drama hinges not on a natural disaster, but the split-second response of oh-so-fallible humans in its path.

Directed by Ruben Ostlund, and already Sweden's official Foreign Language entry for the 2015 Academy Awards, the film tells a simple-seeming story about a young family on a skiing vacation in the French Alps. The father, Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke), works too hard, as his wife, Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) tells another tourist at their swanky resort hotel, high in the snowy mountains. So they've packed up their two young children, Vera and little Harry, for five days of relaxation and family time.

On the second day, while the family is having lunch on the restaurant balcony, overlooking a spectacular view, the snowpack on the nearest mountain begins to move. It's not giving too much away to reveal that the movie continues on from this point. But damage that may prove to be irreparable has been done to Tomas and Ebba's family unit, and to their relationship.

Ostlund's design is fascinating in the way the film's central incident becomes a litmus test for gender, family, and even age issues among all who witness it, including the audience. (Read more)

Tuesday, November 4, 2014


Radcliffe can't solve dilemma in Horns

It's always fun to watch Daniel Radcliffe in his post-Potter career. Not that he's been trying to shed his Harry Potter persona, exactly, so much as stretching the boundaries of what he can do—as well as testing the outer limits of his audience's expectations.

From the troubled stableboy in Equus on Broadway, to the mournful young widower in the Gothic  thriller The Woman In White, to the youthful Allen Ginsberg on the cusp of his outlaw sexuality in Kill Your Darlings, Radcliffe has taken roles that challenge prevailing ideas of who he is as an actor.

But none yet perhaps so challenging as Alexandre Aja's horror thriller, Horns, in which Radcliffe stars as Ig Perrish, the misfit protagonist. Suspected by everyone in his small, Northwestern town of the brutal murder of his girlfriend, and stalked by the sensation-hungry media, he wakes up one day with ram's horns sprouting from his head, and the gift of eliciting the truth (however tawdry) from everyone around him. An unexpected talent that sets him on a hunt for the real killer.

I bought into the first third or so of the story. Radcliffe offers up some intense, yet  sardonic moments, his American accent is pretty good, and there's a subversive, black-comedy kick to the way the newly diabolical Ig starts giving people permission to act on their favorite deadly sins. It has something to do with the way they're all compelled to reveal their most shameful, innermost desires in his presence.

But sadly, the film eventually crosses the fine line between devilish social satire and ham-fisted, cheesiness. I haven't read the source material, the horror novel by Joe (Son of Stephen King) Hill, so I don't know where to lay the blame for all the wretched excess. All I know is the film finally crumbles under its own heavy-handed good/evil symbolism, its jumbled-up Biblical metaphors (snakes, wings, crucifix, horns), and a prevailing sense of overall nastiness.

Radcliffe will emerge, of course, unscathed. Next up? He'll play Igor in a reboot of Frankenstein. Okay, I can't wait!

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


A journalist friend of mine, making the leap into fiction, once got some conflicting advice about "voice" in a novel. She asked me what the formula was. If only there was one! In my experience, finding a novel's narrative voice is a mysterious process of intuition, alchemy, trial and error. Every book is different, and each one demands its own storytelling voice.

My first book, The Witch From The Sea, had to be written in first-person subjective by my heroine, Tory; her perspective on the life-changing events happening to her in the novel were so much more wry and humorous than an indirect third-person narrative could ever be.

The shaping of Tory’s personality is what the book is about, so I really heard her telling her own story. It later evolves that she’s keeping a log of her adventures, but the first-person narrator doesn’t always have to be setting down her thoughts as part of the story. It’s okay for the author to write from inside the character’s thoughts as she reflects.

Runaways, my sequel to Witch couldn’t be told in the same way because too much of the plot depends on things Tory doesn’t know. So I had to switch to third-person omniscient, that is, switching around between the viewpoints of different characters as the plot demands. (Alternating scenes or chapters from the heroine’s viewpoint, the hero’s, the villain’s etc.) This way, the reader gets more info about the big picture than any one character has, which hopefully creates suspense or anticipation from the reader wanting to see what happens when certain events or characters or agendas on a collision course finally do collide. This is useful when characters are in opposition to each other, but may not know it; it's especially useful to plunge into the mind of the villain/antagonist to get the lowdown on his or her diabolical plans.
Vintage log books: a great way for a heroine to tell her story

One of my novels (not in the Witch series) came to me in first-person present tense. (“Sun stabs through the leaded glass in the window. I can see the way they smirk at me when they think I’m not looking.”) Don’t ask me why, but I was physically unable to write it any other way. I needed to be inside the protagonist’s head, reacting to every little stimuli the instant it happened to her. It made the whole story so much more immediate!

This is also the narrative voice I used for Alias Hook. That’s just the way the protagonist, Captain Hook, started "talking" to me in my head, looking around the Neverland and telling me what he saw and what he thought about it all.

 Readers may need to know more than your characters
This put a few constraints on the plot; I wasn’t able to wander off and follow my heroine around Neverland as much as I would have liked. But since so much of the action depends on James Hook's emotional evolution—letting go of the past, giving up the game, understanding the true nature of his fate, and earning the possibility of freedom—it turned out to be the best way to tell his story. His is also a journey out of isolation, which the reader shares by being right there inside Hook’s viewpoint the whole time.

That he can be such an unreliable narrator—meaning his interpretation of events is not always exactly correct—makes the story so much more interesting! And practically interactive—it's up to astute readers to get wise to James Hook, decipher his fears and prejudices, speculate about what might really be going on, and root for him to (finally) get wise to himself.

First-person present tense used to be thought of as sort of weird and experimental; one story market I submitted to wouldn’t even look at anything written in that format. Then for awhile, it seemed like every other novel was coming out in first-person present tense (including Philippa Gregory's Boleyn family bestsellers).

But these things go in and out of fashion, just like anything else, so best not to worry about the market, or what other writers are doing. If your protagonist wants to do all the yakking, let her. If you’d rather address your readers with a nudge and a wink, like Thackeray, and let them know more about what’s going on than the characters know, then do that. Trust your own instincts, Grasshopper. Just start writing and the story will tell you how it wants to be told.

Monday, October 20, 2014


Look who's making a comeback in pop culture!

That would be Hook, Captain Hook, to you.

Sure, the title of the upcoming live onstage TV broadcast is Peter Pan, but look who gets the dominant position on the poster. And, yes, that's Christopher Walken under those black piratical curls.

I like Walken a lot as an actor, although he is not exactly the way I pictured the character in Alias Hook. And while he'll bring the requisite blue eyes and his innate sense of menace to the role, he might have to finesse his New Yawk accent a bit.

This upcoming holiday production is brought to you by the same folks who tested the waters with The Sound Of Music Live last December.

 The idea is to take some creaky, oops, I mean venerable old stage musical, infuse it with fresh young blood, and stage it in real time to be broadcast live, just like in the good old days of live TV on kinescope. This was semi-successful in Music: the kids were cute, and Carrie Underwood sang well as Maria, although her acting was a slightly different story.

In Peter Pan Live, they'll hew to the 100-year-old tradition of casting a grown woman in the role of Pan, in this case, Allison Williams, from Girls. In the theatre, you can almost make a case for this: actual children can be difficult to work with, and, at least nowadays, there are child labor laws. But, I'm sorry, on TV, a grown woman looks like a grown woman, no matter how short they cut her hair. Just sayin'...

On the other Peter Pan movie front, Pan, coming out in the summer of 2015, no pics have yet been released of Garrett Hedlund in the Captain Hook role. (That's the project featuring Hugh Jackman as the dread pirate Blackbeard.) Stay tuned for further details!

Saturday, October 18, 2014


Coal miners, gay activists join forces in exuberant 'Pride'

They were not the most natural allies you could imagine: a clutch of hip, young gay and lesbian activists from London and the working-class denizens of a remote Welsh coal-mining village far. Yet these two diverse groups made history together with an audacious show of solidarity during Britain's lengthy Mineworkers Strike of 1984.

And now their story is dramatized with plenty of heart, humor, and verve in Pride, a crowd-pleasing valentine to diversity from director Matthew Warchus.
Scripted by Stephen Beresford, Pride invites viewers into a pivotal moment in social and political history. In 1984, smack in the middle of Margaret Thatcher's iron-fisted, union-busting tenure as Prime Minister, the notion of out and loud gay pride was only just blinking its way out into the daylight.

When the National Union of Mineworkers in Britain launched what became a year-long strike for improved conditions, putting their jobs and families on the line for basic human rights, a collective of gay activists in London felt a sense of kinship and decided to help publicize their plight.
Warchus and Beresford assemble a mixed cast of historical and fictional characters to tell their story. At its center is Mark Ashton, the real-life gay activist played in the film by Ben Schnetzer (almost unrecognizable from his role, as the Jewish youth hidden in the basement in The Book Thief). Leader of an informal group of like-minded, politically savvy folk who meet at a Soho book shop, Mark forms the group Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM), and takes to the streets with his friends to collect money, food and clothes for the striking miners and their families.

There's dissension in the ranks from both sides the first time the activists drive their "Out Loud" bus over the Severn Bridge to the tiny South Wales hamlet where they deliver their donations. But the film is fueled by smaller stories within the bigger picture of individuals battling their own prejudices and learning to work together.

Imelda Staunton, Dominic West, Paddy Considine, Bill Nighy, and Andrew Scott (best known to US TV fans as "Jim Moriarty" in Sherlock) offer their usual sterling support.

Pride glosses over some facts; it never acknowledges the real-life Mark Ashton's commitment to the Communist Party, which inspired his progressive politics. Yet it succeeds as an entertaining, often deeply affecting, and exuberantly told blueprint for tolerance and solidarity—against all odds. (Read more)

Saturday, October 11, 2014


Feel like you'd like to dip your toe in a tropical ocean this weekend?

Swim with a sea turtle?

Dive to the briny deep in a steampunk submarine?

Maybe glimpse a mermaid or two?

Well, you're in luck—and you don't even have to leave Santa Cruz to do it! Just surf or snorkel your way over to Beth Gripenstraw's Open Studio.

For one weekend only, Beth has converted her living space just off Mission Street into an underwater extravaganza!

A pair of dolphins leaping over a coral reef greet you as you climb the front steps.

The entryway is full of tide pools and kelp beds, and as you enter the main room, a giant sea turtle and his entourage of jellyfish swim lazily by.

Glide into the showroom where Beth displays her colorful, sealife-decorated ceramic platters, bowls, urns, and earrings, along with her sea urchin pots.

Just keep an eye out for these no-nonsense guardian mermaids; they're watching your every move!

But I have to say, my favorite is the dining room, transformed this year into the interior of Captain Nemo's Nautilus submarine, from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

I love the gears, gauges, and tubes along the wall, to regulated the engine (they even belch out steam!), the bolted metal door and window frames, and, of course, the octopus—or is it a giant squid?—watching it all from outside the cabin window.

Of course, the captain's table is set with Beth's festive dinnerware, which this year includes square, starfish-decorated trenchers and vibrant fish-shaped plates.

As a matter of fact, Beth's exuberant ceramic pieces are grouped all around the house, along with her quirky and imaginative watercolor paintings. So don't get so bedazzled by the environment that you miss any of them!

Now hear this: Beth will NOT be open Encore weekend, so tomorrow (Sunday) is your last day to enter her world. So chart a course for #232 in your Open Studios Guide, and enjoy!