So, Mr. Mark Spitz, who also writes for SPIN, has written a play called "The Name of This Play is Talking Heads" -- it's about, apparently, people just like me: the Talking Heads who provide a never-ending stream of nattering content on VH1. According to the Times' review, Mr. Spitz reveals that we Talking Heads are often coached to deliver the soundbites the producers want, and his protagonist is "shocked at how vapid television can be." Like, um, duh?
In a vaguely hubrisistic way, I'm flattered that someone has taken the time to write a play about the VH1 talking head phenom. And I'm way impressed that the show is up and running -- as a former theatre person (actually, I'd quite like to return to my theatre person roots, but we'll, much like The English Beat, save it for later) I know how difficult it is to mount a full-on NY production. [Speaking of which: aw man, last night, I totally mounted a full-on NY production. Thank you, I'll be here all week). But I'm mildly incredulous that High Art (theatre) is now commenting on Low Art (VH1 talking head shows). It just seems so art imitating life that doesn't need to be imitated ...
And speaking of theatre, PLEASE go see my all-time faverave show: Shockheaded Peter. It's back in NYC, and it is oh-so-worth-seeing. Please, see it post haste.
And further speaking of theatre, longtime F.O.B.'s (friends of Bex) will recall my stint in Grindhouse A Go Go, during which time I portrayed a lesbian dominatrix gym teacher, Courtney Love, an 80s-sitcom-style hiphop orphan, and a smutty rock-loving investigative reporter (not necessarily in that order). I was fortunate enough to become close friends with the talented and insightful Tom Tenney, a man whose commitment to ART and ARTISTS is nothing short of admirable and awesome. Tom's been through the day-job wringer recently so please read his tale of woeful malfeasance and see if you can help. Or at least spread the meme.