First Shot: With great power comes power of attorney

Man, I love it when a plan comes together.

You don’t have to be a long-time reader of this blog to know that creators’ rights, messy litigation and the chance to embarrass well-funded entertainment conglomerates are three of my favorite things – right up there with raindrops on roses and Asian feeder porn.

So what better news could a new week bring me than an announcement that the heirs of the late Jack Kirby – better known as The Greatest Comics Artist Who Shall Ever Draw Breath – are going through with plans to nab their rightful share of the greenbacks that Disney and a few other companies have been raining down on Kirby’s old “employer,” Marvel Entertainment?

By now, just about everybody knows that Kirby was at the very least the co-creator of the lion’s share of Marvel’s iconic characters – as involved in their genesis as the infinitely more self-promotional Stan “Story Conference by Post-It Note” Lee. Well, Disney’s recent acquisition of Marvel has triggered the latest salvo in a decades-long battle for control between the latter and the Kirby clan, who couldn’t have picked a better moment to pop up like righteously indignant jacks-in-the-box.

Wait: Better make that gleaming, metallic jacks-in-the-box, with ornate plastic headdresses and stances roughly twice the width of their shoulders. (Because a story like this lives or dies on the visual.)

Kirby’s estate has filed suit against Marvel, attempting to establish joint ownership of a whole host of the publisher’s creative properties. And the “joint” part is where things get interesting.

The Kirby side’s lawyer in this affair is one Marc Toberoff, who in a similar case got the courts to recognize that, while DC Comics might own Superman, the heirs of creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster control certain other essential character elements -- like flying, Krypton, The Daily Planet and a bunch of other stuff Glenn Beck would like to incorporate into his autobiography.

Likewise, the most curious passage in The Hollywood Reporter’s story on the Kirby case states that “the estate's court action could give it the ability to license competing versions” of the characters in question.

In other words, a Kirby-approved Fantastic Four movie could be put into production in a manner that entailed direct competition with a Marvel-licensed one. And thus for the X-Men, Thor, the Hulk, the Silver Surfer, ad excelsior.

Sound ludicrous? Tell it to the 75 bands that have been legally entitled to call themselves Foghat. Or ask everybody who thought he had exclusive rights to the plot of Ian Fleming’s Thunderball. (When your Dad dies, look carefully in the middle drawer of his old oaken desk: Odds are, he has a valid claim lying around, too.)

What makes this latest example of divided intellectual property all the more pertinent is that it directly reflects the modus operandi of the latter-day superhero business. For about a quarter century now, the bread and butter of mainstream comics has been to float simultaneous “reimaginings” of the most profitable characters. Which is why Batman can be seen brooding it up in modern-day Gotham City on one store shelf and skulking around Victorian London a few feet away in the graphic-novel section. It’s also how a licensee like Sony can “reboot” the Spider-Man movie franchise less than five years after scoring a box-office bonanza with its previous iteration. It’s as if the entire audience had gained superhuman powers of forgetfulness and/or divided attention in a freak nuclear accident.

And now the bandwagon is being hopped on by somebody with an actual creative claim on the material. Ask me how much I love that. Hell, I’ll gladly shell out some hard-earned dough for a Kirby FF movie – it would almost have to be better than the “real” thing. Make mine Marvel!

(Note: “Mine” does not imply ownership in whole or in part, but may reserve the plaintiff’s right to claim emotional distress at a later date. See: California v. Ratner, attached.)

Ends: That's just the title; it's happening on time.

This is an incoming notice about a free reading at the Winter Park Playhouse. Enjoy!

You're invited to the FREE reading of the brand new and original musical comedy, DELAYED; written by Elaine Pechacek and Katie Hammond!

Katie and Elaine have been working on "DELAYED" for the past six months and are so incredibly proud to be sharing it with the Orlando community for the first time.

Please come and support this new show, as we debut it for the first time in full to an audience in the form of a reading. There will even be a band! While it is still a work in progress and we'd love your attendance and feedback! There will be a reception after the reading and we'd be thrilled to have you join us.

Featuring the VERY talented:

Summer Aiello
Christine Decker
Charles Gray
Sarah Hanchar
Matt Horohoe
Ryan Kim
Meghan Moroney

The reading will begin at 8pm on Monday, March 15, 2010.

WINTER PARK PLAYHOUSE
711 North Orange Avenue
Winter Park, FL 32789

For more information on the show, please visit www.pechacekhammond.com or contact Elaine Pechacek at 321-662-2311

Now in theaters and galleries

Update 3.12.2010


Opening

The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged)
It was back in 1997 that Richard Width first appeared in what was then billed as The Compleat Works of Willm Shakspr (Abridged). As we reported a dozen years ago, “He played the surfer-dudish blond with an obsession for wigs and a queasy stomach in the comedy that condensed 37 Shakespeare plays into two hours of witty vignettes.” Now, in what is billed as Width’s farewell to Orlando, the accomplished director-writer-actor-educator puts his experienced grasp on the comedy he knows intimately before departing for the Garden State. We know in our hearts he’ll be back soon. (8 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday; through April 3 at Garden Theatre, 160 W. Plant St., Winter Garden; $18-$22; 407-877-4736; www.gardentheatre.org)

Final week

Alba – Paintings of Scotland
Local painter Allan Cody-Rapport displays his series based on the mythic mists of Scotland, into which he projects a spiritual essence informed by the romantic lore. One longs to see this artist more out of control, less brand-conscious and truly driven to dig into the forces only hinted at in these exquisite paintings. (through Saturday, March 13, at Neu America Art Gallery at CityArts Factory, 29 S. Orange Ave.; free; 407-648-7060; www.cody-rapport.com)  

All's Well That Ends Well
Artistic director Jim Helsinger renders a delightfully full-blooded version of the Bard’s romantic fantasy about a servant girl who falls hard for an aristocrat. Marni Penning as the lovelorn Helena is radiant; Eric Zivot is perfect as the sly Parolles; Steve Hendrickson’s king is powerful; and Brandon Roberts, as the clown, and Anne Hering, as the scheming countess, bear much of the heavy comic lifting. (through Sunday, March 14, at Orlando Shakespeare Theater, 812 E. Rollins St.; $20-$38; 407-447-1700; www.orlandoshakes.org)

Bach at Leipzig
As directed by Kevin G. Becker and Seth Kubersky of Empty Spaces Theatre Co., playwright Itamar Moses’ witty spoof is a whirlwind of facts, fugues, sight gags, double-entendres and ironic references. The closest the title character comes to making an appearance is through his music, as a handful of forgettable German composers vie against the unseen Bach for the prime job of organist at Thomaskirche. (through Friday, March 12, at Lowndes Shakespeare Center, 812 E. Rollins St.; $20; 407-328-9005; www.emptyspacestheatre.org)

Hamlet
From the opening scene, in which the king’s ghost levitates out of the floor in a sea of fog, to the final fencing duel, director Richard Width has crafted a supremely theatrical show stocked with energy and accessibility. As the titular prince, Avery Clark is no emo moper. (through Saturday, March 13, at Orlando Shakespeare Theater, 812 E. Rollins St.; $20-$38; 407-447-1700; www.orlandoshakes.org)

Topdog/Underdog
In Suzan-Lori Parks’ 2002 Pulitzer Prize–winning play, two brothers find themselves shackled together in an uneasy alliance of dashed hopes and unfulfilled ambitions. Director Be Boyd has staged a compelling and ferocious version of the drama, starring two University of Central Florida students, A.C. Sanford (Lincoln) and David Tate (Booth). Both actors give deeply felt and impressively moving performances, tearing into Parks’ expletive-laden script with youthful abandon coupled with a mature understanding of the inner lives of these two sympathetic losers. (through Sunday, March 14 at Mad Cow Theatre, 105 S. Magnolia Ave.; 407-297-8788; $22; www.madcowtheatre.com)

Continuing shows

Auspicious Vision
From the 1910s to the 1950s, Edward Wales Root, a New York Sun reporter, bought pieces from emerging artists who went on to create some of the most significant art of modern times. Root’s collection, on tour from the Munson-Williams-Proctor Arts Institute in Utica, N.Y., sizzles and thrills the viewer with paintings from artists Edward Hopper, Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko and dozens of others. (through May 23 at the Mennello Museum of American Art, 900 E. Princeton St.; $4; 407-246-4278; www.mennellomuseum.org)

Double Exposure: African Americans Before and Behind the Camera
The range of styles, techniques and media is overwhelming, but it’s the faces that grab your attention: the fierce expression G.K. Warren captured in his 1876 portrait of Frederick Douglass; the ironic 1978 “Smokin Joe Ain’t J’mama” staged by Hank Willis Thomas; the intense expressions on the girls in Carrie Mae Weems’ 2003 “May Flowers From May Days Long Forgotten.” (through May 30 at the Southeast Museum of Photography, Daytona State College, 1200 W. International Speedway Blvd., Daytona Beach; free; 386-506-4475; www.smponline.org)

Maidens and Monsters: The Art of Science Fiction, Adventure and Fantasy
The debut of the local Korshak Collection of vintage American artworks combines original paintings and drawings alongside copies of the pulp magazines and books that featured them as illustrations. The legendary artists include J. Allen St. John, N.C. Wyeth and Frank Frazetta. (through April 18 at Albin Polasek Museum & Sculpture Gardens, 633 Osceola Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-647-6294; www.maidensandmonsters.com)

Man and the Machine
Viewing the side-by-side curation of rare Cold War–era American and Soviet Union posters from the permanent collection inspires questions of how vintage political art can be interpreted in the new millennium. The U.S.A. artists tended to work in chiaroscuro and expressionism, while the Soviets used primary colors and photomontage to forceful effect. But both sets mask rather than illustrate the political truth of the times. (through summer at Cornell Fine Arts Museum, Rollins College, Winter Park; $5; 407-646-2526; www..rollins.edu/cfam)

Theater review: 'In the Heights'

In the Heights
Presented by Fairwinds Broadway Across America
Through March 14 at Carr Peforming Arts Centre
407-849-2020 or 407-423-9999
www.orlandobroadway.com
www.intheheightsthemusical.com
$38-$70

by Seth Kubersky

In the Heights introduces audiences to Washington Heights, a heavily Hispanic neighborhood on the northern end of Manhattan, where the corner bodega is the cornerstone of the barrio community. Orphaned store owner Usnavi (Kyle Beltran, re-creating the role originated by composer/lyricist Lin-Manuel Miranda) serves café con leche and cares for his loudmouth little cousin Sonny (Shaun Taylor-Corbett) while pining for Vanessa (Sabrina Sloan), the beautiful beauticians' assistant in the neighboring salon, who dreams of escaping her alcoholic mother. 

Across the street, Kevin and Camila Rosario (Oscar Cheda and Natalie Toro) slave away at their car service in order to send their daughter Nina (Arielle Jacobs) to Stanford, but she has folded under financial pressure and fled home, falling into the arms of African-American family friend Bennie (Rogelio Douglas Jr.). On an infernal Independence Day eve, the block's beloved matriarch Abuela Claudia wins $96,000 in the lottery; the windfall will fulfill lifelong dreams, but may forever fracture this tight-knit extended family.

I approached the performance without any prior familiarity with the score or story, knowing it only by its inspiring rags-to-riches story: Author Miranda created the original version as a Wesleyan University undergrad and saw it shaped through workshop and off-Broadway stagings into a Best Musical Tony Award–winning Broadway sensation.

So I went in with no preconceptions but high expectations, which were initially met. Set designer Anna Louizos' fantastic forced-perspective, multistory tenement (like Avenue Q's set on steroids) with the George Washington Bridge in the background makes a breathtaking first impression. And Howell Binkley paints it with layers of lovely summer light.

I appreciated the bilingualism built into the show's DNA, from the pre-recorded curtain speech on. Opening night, the jokes en español raised loud laughter from the rear rows while the upper-crust orchestra sat silent, showing the class/language connection is still alive and well in Orlando.

The upbeat score welds lyrically dense softcore rap (think Fresh Prince meets Eminem) with infectious rhythms and blistering brass borrowed from the dances of the Dominican Republic, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Brazil and other Latin American cultures the characters come from.

Andy Blankenbuehler brings his So You Think You Can Dance–style to the stage, with choreography that is ethnically eclectic and athletic. Most of all, the cast is so exuberant that you can't help but embrace them. Without exception, they are all compelling singers and kinetic dancers; each obviously exudes honest elation at performing this material.

So I feel sad saying that, as much as I wanted to warm up to In the Heights, I was ultimately left fairly frio. After a half-dozen spirited but unmemorable musical numbers, I noticed a predictable pattern developing: a character breaks into an expository song spelling out their entire backstory, delivering it full bore, directly at the audience, climaxing in an awkwardly punctuated ending.

A choppy transition then leads to another stiffly staged dialog scene, with every beat in Quiara Alegría Hudes' barely adequate book easily anticipated; it's an after-school-special spin on West Side Story without the Jets. Characters don't invoke their agency to push the plot forward; mostly they simply express established emotions over and over again.

In the end, none of the plot threads are satisfyingly resolved in a conclusive way.

“Make sure you remember the flavor of home” is a fine platitude if you're Dorothy in Oz, but it's an insufficient solution for the serious socio-economic issues that this shows invokes, only to then dance around.

Most of In the Heights' flaws flow from its sophomore origins showing through the seams; a skilled director should have been able to stitch them closed. How Thomas Kail got a Tony nomination for this I'll never know.

Fringe and cringe

Last night’s Fab Fringe Fundraiser at the Shakes' Goldman Theater had its surprises, and we're not complaining. The entertainment was as good as Funky Monkey's garlic mashed potatoes.

Fab Fringe moment: As promised, car-accident-injured and still quite fabulous Fringe producer Beth Marshall rolled out in her wheelchair with a sedately dressed Patrick Flick of Orlando Shakes. (We like his jester costume and liveliness on the troupe’s TV commercials.) Originally scheduled to co-host, the two did their parts to explain the continued intercourse between the Orlando International Fringe Theatre Festival and PlayFest before they turned the stage over to "Wayburn Sassy" and his almost female foil, "Didi Panache."

Fab cringe moment: Obviously someone forgot to tell Wayburn and Didi that there were high-schoolers in the crowd, because he wasted no time turning loose his signature crotchety and crotch-centered humor. Those of us in attendance won’t soon forget where he said to slide that credit card. Ouch! (And people used to wag their tongues about Michael Wanzie?)

Fab Fringe moment: Obviously someone finally did tell Wayburn Sassy who was in the audience, even though it was near the end of the show. And he felt like shit and said so (and more) when he returned to the crowd. Wayburn, you are very, very funny and made us laugh, but some of us can’t relax when we know there’s a baby in the bar. Excellent comeback on the auctioneering, though.

Other elevated performances by upcoming Fringe acts:

• Becky Fisher and her backup trio advised, in song and chorus, prospective Fringe performers about the “vampires” that suck out your creativity and confidence.

 • Janine Klein’s full-throated, tousled-haired ode to a Gay Bar Star (the title of her Fringe show) was slightly upstaged by her tight-tush assistant.

• Willy Marchante’s wicked choreography for his Casting Shadows dancers was wonderfully creepy.

• And, of course, the resilient cast of Orlando Youth Theatre brought on the years, er, tears with their rendition of "Seasons of Love" from their Fringe production of Rent. It left a sweet taste even in Sassy's mouth, we're sure.

Ends: No, really, this one is about ends.

It's a shame, the recession and all. Looking to put a human (if a bit nerdy) face on things? Urban Think! Bookstore is closing on March 31. Here's the letter they've sent out.

We are sorry to have to inform our customers and supporters that we will be closing Urban Think! Bookstore at the end of this month. After nine wonderful years, the hard financial facts involved in running an independent bookstore in the current economy is a reality that we are unable to constantly try and meet. As well, the ways in which books are purchased and read by people in today's technological climate presents a challenge that does not lend itself to supporting a brick-and-mortar store such as Urban Think!

What began as a small store established in the Autumn of 2001 evolved into a durable neighborhood institution that offered great books, stimulating events, and a commitment to the cultural enhancement of Thornton Park. In those ways, we succeeded mightily, and we sincerely thank our loyal customers for those opportunities.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The legacy of Urban Think! Bookstore will be manifested in the Urban Think! Foundation, which was founded in April of 2008, and it has become a very successful and meaningful charitable organization. While supporting various community programs, it also supports the acclaimed Page 15 literacy initiative directed by Julia Young. (Page15.org)
The Urban Think! Foundation is part of the future planning process, and we envision that the space will be used to support and enhance the Foundation's mission. Stay tuned for further announcements!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Meanwhile, we are having a huge clearance sale of all our stock. Stop in and see what we have to offer, at some really great discounts... up to 35% OFF all stock!
Children's books, fiction, non-fiction ... it's all priced to move, so come in and pick up some great additions for your library.

Thank you !

First Shot: “Live”-blogging the ABC/Cablevision™ Oscars

8:29 PM – I’ve already taken a pass on Barbara Walters and the red carpet. If I time the Jäger shots just right, I can manage to miss every reference to Inglourious Basterds.

8:30 – The nominated actors line up. And your cannon fodder for tonight is …

8:32 - Neil Patrick Harris! And you thought these things were the Tonys last year.

8:33 – He’s singing in the key of Taylor Swift.

8:36 – George Clooney, someone just sent you a hard-on in FarmigaVille.

8:328 – Martin and Baldwin make a Nazi-memorabilia joke! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

8:39 -- And poor blacks! If these guys aren’t careful, they’re going to burn through all the comedy staples in five minutes.

8:41 – Now a Hollywood-Jews joke! I honestly may be out of a job within an hour.

8:44 – Christoph Waltz officially becomes Hollywood’s favorite Nazi. Time to run for governor.

8:49 – ABC’s crawl announces a breakthrough in negotiations with Cablevision. The producers of Undercover Boss all drink.

8:50 – Are we not announcing upcoming projects anymore? That’s Ryan “Green Lantern” Reynolds to you!

8:56 – What a nice visit from the stars of all of the nominated cartoons (except Precious).

9 pm ­-- Miley Cyrus looks just the way “new Hollywood royalty” should: like a 45-year-old hooker on a spray-tan date with John Boehner. (GTL, Ms. Montana.)

9:04 – Wait a minute … didn’t T-Bone Burnett die last week?

9:05 ­– If there were any justice, Chris Pine would be accepting instead of presenting. (Also, I would be Chris Pine.)

9:11 – Hey, they found a page of a Tarantino script that could be printed on the screen.

9:17 – Oh, right, it wasn’t T-Bone who died … it was John Hughes. God almighty, Molly Ringwald looks like Kathy Griffin crashing RuPaul’s Drag Race.

9:20 – Well, it took John Hughes dying, but Lea Thompson’s face was seen on the Oscars.

9:22 – Wow, I think they’re going to talk about John Hughes for an hour. Well, he did tell Gorbachev to tear down that wall. (I did a lot of ’shrooms in the ’80s.)

9:31 – We just learned that whoever is identified as the director of the Best Animated Short will one day make the next Cars, so they all need to be shot now.

9:34 – How ’bout those winners for documentary short? It’s like watching Bella Abzug fight Terence Trent D’Arby for the remote.

9:37 – Ben Stiller goes the full Na’avi. Cameron tries to simulate mirth, can’t manage it in puny 2-D.

9:41 – Star Trek rules the makeup ghetto. This is what having 10 Best Picture nominees can do for you.

9:50 -- Jeffrey Fletcher wins for adapting Precious from … um, Going Rogue?

9:54 – See, Lauren Bacall? You work your whole life, you get to sit next to the guy who made Eat My Dust.

9:59 – And congratulations, Mo’Nique: When Sam Jackson thinks you’re acting inappropriately, you’ve really accomplished something.

10:07 -- Avatar narrowly edges out Lego Indiana Jones for Art Direction.

10:22 – Nice tribute to horror movies. Maybe next year, they’ll actually nominate one.

10:25: And to add insult to enema, The Dark Knight gets more play than in the year it was eligible. To quote Richard Pryor, “I want to kill everybody.”

10:27 -- The sound people from The Hurt Locker take it all, and Kathryn Bigelow couldn’t be any happier if she knew what they did.

10:35 -- Avatar snatches Best Cinematography from Mario Kart.

10:38 – James Taylor lends melody to the “In Memoriam” segment, to remind us all that dying isn’t necessarily the worst thing in the world.

10:48 – Holy shit, a break-dancing bomb unit! Quoth Rob Lowe: “Right, and I’m the asshole.”

10:55 – Avatar takes Visual Effects, drubbing odds-on favorite Halo Wars.

10:58 – Announcer: “Will Best Director go to a colored, a cunny, or one of our three evil white men?”

11:04 – And it’s Anvil! for Best Documentary … in any world I want to live in. Seriously, it’s great to see a film that reflects negatively on SeaWorld be honored on a network owned by Disney. It makes this whole process feel pure and above board.

11:07 – The Hurt Locker’s win for Best Editing edges the picture closer to the categories Bigelow has in fact heard of.

11:16 – Argentina wins Best Foreign Country, or something.

11:25 – Why did they keep these squirm-inducing “personal testimonials” from last year? The only thing that’ll save it is if somebody busts out the sex-rehab stories.

11:32 –And it’s Beau Bridges for Best Actor! (Remember: ’shrooms.)

11:36 – Fun fact: Lloyd Bridges was alive when this speech started. Fun fact II: The producers of The Cove are waiting in the wings to ask Bridges some pointed questions about Sea Hunt. Fun fact III: When Bigelow heard the phrase “sea hunt,” she took personal offense.

11:37 – I got nothin’.

11:43 – “Carey Mulligan … Carey Mulligan. Oh, that Carey Mulligan. Right right right.”

11:47 – Sandra Bullock gets Best Actress, and the Democrats automatically lose 14 House seats.

11:52 – Let’s see: Do you haul out Streisand as a presenter, only to have the female nominee lose Best Director?

11:55 – Nope. The ending of Shutter Island was harder to see coming.

11:56 – Madre de dios, those arms! Are we sure Bigelow really is the first female Best Director? In the Caster Semenya sense, maybe.

11:58 – Avatar loses badly to Call of Duty: World at War. (As of 8:48 p.m., this joke was to be: “And for all the Cablevision households, it’s A Serious Man”.)

12:01 – Bigelow pre-emptively thanks the next male filmmaker whose secrets she will suck from his cranium in the dead of night. Sleep tight, everybody!

First Shot: Ping with me, ping for the year

Thanks to everybody who helpfully pointed out that no less than Roger Ebert had commented favorably upon his mention in this blog last week. For somebody like me, who was born at the very end of the baby boom, it’s still rather amazing to think that anything you write about anybody can theoretically be known to them almost instantaneously. (Then again, I just recently remarked that even looking at a digital photo frame makes me feel as if I’ve awakened from cryonic suspension and into an episode of The Jetsons, so I’m obviously not your go-to guy for calm acceptance of technological advancement.)

I just want to reassure everybody that that gradual realization isn’t going to alter the agenda of this blog one whit, jot or iota. Just because I now know I can rhetorically propose marriage to comedian Sara Benincasa and have her “accept” within 24 hours (and take a wild guess how that one turned out), it doesn’t mean I should start pulling my punches, for fear of offending the celebrity court to which I have appointed myself jester. And I’m certainly not going to start making random shout-outs to industry power players, just to see if I can get on the radar of somebody who might be in a position to advance my career. To do so would constitute a simple breach of faith – an abandonment of the no-holds-barred principles on which my whole schtick is built, and which the talkbackers seem to respond to so warmly when they are not making fun of my height or lazy eye.

Anyway, I’ve not much else to say today, beyond a reminder that you should check back here tomorrow night for my now-traditional Oscar recap. I’ll be offering up my usual running commentary, making shoot-from-the-hip observations of the behavior exhibited by the stars of the night. Like JAMES CAMERON. And TOM HANKS. How will Hollywood royalty respond to the harsh glare of the international spotlight as they experience the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat? Only EVENT PRODUCERS ADAM SHANKMAN AND BILL MECHANIC have even the slightest inkling at this point.

And speaking of JAMES CAMERON, I need to comment on what is now the most talked-about Oscar runup story of the year. It seems presenters BEN STILLER and SACHA BARON COHEN were planning an Avatar spoof for their turn at the dais, but were dissuaded from going through with it, given that CAMERON (JAMES CAMERON) is supposedly known for lacking a sense of self-deprecation. You know what? I think he’s right. The man makes more money for the movie business and employs more people than just about all of the rest of Tinseltown combined. And his Avatar has practically reinvented the art of motion pictures. He’s practically a saint at this point. Why should he (i.e., CAMERON, JAMES) suffer the slings and arrows of chummy satire? If another, equally esteemed presenter -- MATT DAMON, maybe, or SALMA HAYEK -- wants to poke fun at some lesser player, like a craft-services person whose name I do not know because of his limited hiring ability, then I think that’s fine. Or better yet, we should keep the entire evening’s tone sober and respectful, because if you don’t have anything nice to say, you shouldn’t be saying anything at all.

OPRAH WINFREY taught me that.

And while I’m on the subject of respect, there’s something else JEFF ZUCKER that I need to get off my chest. Can we just do away with these red-carpet shows, please? There’s just too much snark going on there. What people choose to wear is their business, and shouldn’t be fair game for catty dissection. Oscar night is supposed to be a time to pay tribute to advancements in the cinematic arts, not cluck one’s tongue over the sartorial choices of starlets CHRISTINA HENDRICKS YOU WANT ME CHRISTINA HENDRICKS who are just trying to live up to the seriousness of the occasion. This isn’t YOO-HOO, MARTY SCORSESE high school. It isn’t HARVEY WEINSTEIN, I’VE GOT FUDGE fashion week. Let’s remember that even the rich and famous have feelings, and that we should honor that by only talking about them as we’d like to be talked about ourselves TOMMY WISEAU FOR SOME GODDAMN REASON.

Anyhow, it’s going to be a hoot. My cable is paid up and my caps lock is at the ready. Honestly, I’m so excited I feel like CUBA GOODING JR. on his first day of retard school.

(Oops – I meant “differently abled”! Please forgive me, GARY BUSEY!)

Theaters and galleries: shows to see now

Update 3.4.2010

Continuing shows

Alba – Paintings of Scotland
Local painter Allan Cody-Rapport displays his series based on the mythic mists of Scotland, into which he projects a spiritual essence informed by the romantic lore. One longs to see this artist more out of control, less brand-conscious and truly driven to dig into the forces only hinted at in these exquisite paintings. (through March 13, at Neu America Art Gallery at CityArts Factory, 29 S. Orange Ave.; free; 407-648-7060; www.cody-rapport.com)  

All's Well That Ends Well
Artistic director Jim Helsinger renders a delightfully full-blooded version of the Bard’s romantic fantasy about a servant girl who falls hard for an aristocrat. Marni Penning as the lovelorn Helena is radiant; Eric Zivot is perfect as the sly Parolles; Steve Hendrickson’s king is powerful; and Brandon Roberts, as the clown, and Anne Hering, as the scheming countess, bear much of the heavy comic lifting. (through March 14, at Orlando Shakespeare Theater, 812 E. Rollins St.; $20-$38; 407-447-1700; www.orlandoshakes.org)
 

Bach at Leipzig
As directed by Kevin G. Becker and Seth Kubersky of Empty Spaces Theatre Co., playwright Itamar Moses’ witty spoof is a whirlwind of facts, fugues, sight gags, double-entendres and ironic references. The closest the title character comes to making an appearance is through his music, as a handful of forgettable German composers vie against the unseen Bach for the prime job of organist at Thomaskirche. (through March 12 at Lowndes Shakespeare Center, 812 E. Rollins St.; $20; 407-328-9005; www.emptyspacestheatre.org)  

Double Exposure: African Americans Before and Behind the Camera
The range of styles, techniques and media is overwhelming, but it’s the faces that grab your attention: the fierce expression G.K. Warren captured in his 1876 portrait of Frederick Douglass; the ironic 1978 “Smokin Joe Ain’t J’mama” staged by Hank Willis Thomas; the intense expressions on the girls in Carrie Mae Weems’ 2003 “May Flowers From May Days Long Forgotten.” (through May 30 at the Southeast Museum of Photography, Daytona State College, 1200 W. International Speedway Blvd., Daytona Beach; free; 386-506-4475; www.smponline.org)

Hamlet
From the opening scene, in which the king’s ghost levitates out of the floor in a sea of fog, to the final fencing duel, director Richard Width has crafted a supremely theatrical show stocked with energy and accessibility. As the titular prince, Avery Clark is no emo moper. (through March 13 at Orlando Shakespeare Theater, 812 E. Rollins St.; $20-$38; 407-447-1700; www.orlandoshakes.org)

Maidens and Monsters: The Art of Science Fiction, Adventure and Fantasy
The debut of the local Korshak Collection of vintage American artworks combines original paintings and drawings alongside copies of the pulp magazines and books that featured them as illustrations. The legendary artists include J. Allen St. John, N.C. Wyeth and Frank Frazetta. (through April 18 at Albin Polasek Museum & Sculpture Gardens, 633 Osceola Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-647-6294; www.maidensandmonsters.com)

Man and the Machine
Viewing the side-by-side curation of rare Cold War–era American and Soviet Union posters from the permanent collection inspires questions of how vintage political art can be interpreted in the new millennium. The U.S.A. artists tended to work in chiaroscuro and expressionism, while the Soviets used primary colors and photomontage to forceful effect. But both sets mask rather than illustrate the political truth of the times. (through summer at Cornell Fine Arts Museum, Rollins College, Winter Park; $5; 407-646-2526; www..rollins.edu/cfam)

First Shot: Ebert’s balcony scene

OK, so I watched Oprah’s ballyhooed interview with Roger Ebert. And no matter what any of us might feel about the guy’s critical acumen or his pre-cancer professional persona, it’s hard not to be touched and inspired by his trip to the brink, and the triumphant walk back from it he seems to have made with the help of some very supportive and courageous loved ones.

The interview? Meh. Somebody needs to tell this alleged queen of compassion that just because a guest is staring back at you through eyes that only seem maniacally pronounced because cancer has turned his jaw into an unmoving Halloween mask, you do not have to speak to him as if he’s – well, as if he’s retarded. Every time she patronizingly leaped to pronounce Ebert’s every anecdote “a great story” -- before his voice-emulation software was even done telling it -- I found myself pining for the intellectual engagement of Tom Snyder.

Shatner, even.

Worse, as she did in her first Palin sit-down, the hostess once again proved herself fixated on Hallmark  narratives and lifestyle issues – and either unwilling or unable to place those issues in a meaningful social context. Let’s be honest here: Love alone doesn’t save anybody from the kind of cancer this guy had. And at a time when the shocking unaffordability of health care is such a widely recognized epidemic, it would have been nice for someone to have acknowledged the simple truth that Roger Ebert is alive today largely because he’s Roger Ebert.

To the great masses of the uninsured -- some of them members of Ebert’s own drastically downsized profession – what he had would likely have been a death sentence. They wouldn’t be getting four-times-a-day nourishment drips. And they sure wouldn’t have funds (either public or private) to spend on unabashed vanity projects like programming a computer to speak in the patient’s own long-lost voice, as opposed to the impersonal but perfectly adequate Speak 'n Spell dialect that everybody from Stephen Hawking on down has to make do with.

These circumstances went unremarked upon. Instead, we heard over and over again how much Ebert misses the sensation of eating. (Careful, Oprah: Your obsessions are showing.)

Please understand: These aren’t the words of some undergraduate dilettante socialist who thinks every bit of public discourse has to be political, the same way the patrons of yore insisted that every work of visual or musical art be devoted to glorifying scripture. But a bit of societal context to today’s sit-down wouldn’t have only befit Oprah’s station, but Ebert’s own recent focus as well. Because like some enlightened souls at the vanguard of their field (physicist Michio Kaku leaps to mind), Ebert has, to his eternal credit, recognized that some things in life are bigger and more important than the day-in, day-out of his chosen vocation, and that it behooves him to address them.

Of late, he’s been courageously taking on “populist” race-baiting. Just yesterday, he tweeted the under-reported story that the Brooklyn District Attorney had found no criminal activity on the part of community-advocacy group ACORN; an unnamed law-enforcement official commented that sting videographers James O’Keefe and Hannah Giles had edited the footage of their interviews with ACORN staffers “to meet their agenda.” As has been even less widely disseminated, O’Keefe hadn’t even worn his notorious “pimp” getup to those interviews, the doctored footage of which caused the essential decimation of an organization that had committed the unpardonable sin of trying to help nonwhites vote. Ebert, as his also-nonwhite wife told the Oprah audience, is respectful of other cultures – and I’m betting he recognizes the efforts of O’Keefe et al. as coming from a distinctly opposite place.

No, I didn’t really expect that this important issue would come up in an hour that contextualized Ebert’s stirring story as part of the runup to Sunday’s Oscars. To America at large, “Ebert” means “movies.” But what are “the movies” anymore? In the era of YouTube and Robert Greenwald , the line between entertainment and activism is becoming less and less pronounced. One of the ironies of O’Keefe’s story is that, in his self-styled “journalistic” zeal, he’s adopting a lawless fun-house version of the gonzo tactics fixed in the public consciousness by Michael Moore. Pictures, O’Keefe’s generation knows, are worth a thousand words – whether they’re of a pathetic holiday parade through a downtrodden Flint, or of a barely postpubescent Huggy Bear apparently getting free advice in the business of whoring.

The “apparently” part is, I guess a big thing to Ebert, which is why he’s using part of his second life to expose such thuggery. What people do with “movies” matters to him for reasons that go deeper than star power, art direction and opening weekends. Maybe it’s naïve of me to wish that such issues be brought up in a three-hankie confab with the real world’s answer to Madea. But had it happened, I would have given it a big thumbs-up.

Pintura Project: Endangered graffiti fest needs green

The graffiti diaspora has its springtime Orlando ritual: the Pintura Project, which brings together graffiti artists from around town, as well as the world. For the last two years, we’ve sung the praises of the wild explosions of color and creativity that take over Robin Van Arsdol’s warehouses on Central Avenue in Parramore. Aside from the fact that you’re watching spray-can specialists do what they normally do in secret under the cover of darkness, it’s a wholesome affair that draws a crowd of spectators from diverse cultural corners.

So we’re here to officially sound the alert that the third annual Pintura Project gathering, scheduled for April 24, is endangered because of the lack of the color green. Organizer Angel Carreras is trying to pull it together, but $1,500 in donations or sponsorships is desperately needed to kick it into gear. It’s never been a moneymaker, but the graffiti created on the spot is fierce, and even global travelers have said they have never seen anything like it. To help out, contact RV at 407-929-4161 or via www.rvbadjet.com.

Oh, and about the city’s Keep Orlando Beautiful Graffiti Task Force? They actually like graffiti, as long as it’s on private property. And truly, what's not to like? Take a look at what happened last year.