Inside Peek The September Issue gives behind-the-scenes look at Vogue Movie Review

To me, Vogue magazine has never been must-read material.

For many, it’s fashion’s bible, chockfull of extravagant clothing and profiles on heiresses living an equally extravagant lifestyle that many of us can only dream of.

That being said, as an employee at a magazine who’s interested in fashion, I jumped at the chance to see The September Issue, a documentary by R.J. Cutler that gives a behind-the-scenes look at what went into creating the 5-pound September 2007 issue of Vogue, the largest consumer magazine ever published at 840 pages.

It also shines light on Anna Wintour, Vogue’s editor-in-chief, who’s earned the nickname “Nuclear Wintour” for her notoriously icy and standoffish personality.

I loved getting a sneak peek at how such an influential and wide-reaching publication like Vogue creates its content. I loved seeing the photo shoots in progress and all the work and money that goes into them –– all for a mere eight pages of content.

I also enjoyed seeing how Vogue employees interact with Wintour, pitching ideas and clothing suggestions almost cautiously. It’s clear, however, that Wintour has the final say in the magazine’s content when we see her axing an entire fashion spread, one that likely cost thousands and thousands of dollars to produce.

The only one to really challenge Wintour is former model Grace Coddington, Vogue’s creative director, who styles many of the magazine’s photo shoots and really becomes the film’s second star. I ended up really liking Grace; she seemed to have fun with her job and not take it as seriously as the fashion industry takes itself.

Another part I loved: One of The September Issue’s cameramen ends up in a fashion spread. But the industry is all about weight, and that’s none more clear when Wintour suggests he hit the gym to slim down his slight potbelly.

In the end, Wintour comes off as a soft-spoken, decisive businesswoman who’s really nothing like The Devil Wears Prada’s Miranda Priestly, widely rumored to be based on Wintour. I would have liked to see more of Wintour’s personal life, however, more than the brief scenes where she asks her daughter, Bee Shaffer’s, opinion on the issue.

One other note: Wintour is famous just as much for her hair as she is her job. “The Bob” is truly mesmerizing. I couldn’t help but fixate on it in several scenes.

The film will appeal to many, although those that love fashion and/or Vogue probably will enjoy it the most.

Log on www.fandango.com for showtimes.

Leave your comments here or on our FaceBook page.

by Laura Kruty

A Fairytale for Grownups Famous characters learn life lessons in ‘Into the Woods’ Theatre Review

Though narrator (Steve Callahan) opens Stray Dog Theatre Company’s “Into the Woods” with the timeworn prelude to dreamland, “Once upon a time,” audience members don’t have to worry about nodding off. This Grimm’s Fairy Tales mash-up will keep them riveted to the stage.

A diverse group of characters –– including Cinderella, Jack (of beanstalk fame), Little Red Riding Hood and Rapunzel –– coexist in a world on the edge of the woods. All must eventually go into the dark forest to learn important life lessons: coming out of isolation, becoming a man, learning that actions have consequences. To calm their fears, the cast sings: “The woods are just trees, the trees are just wood.”

Scene one begins with a theme of wishing. Cinderella wishes to go to the King’s ball, a baker (whose father was said to have been killed in a terrible baking accident) and his wife long for a child, and Jack yearns for his cow, Milky-White, to give milk. As each one sings of his or her plight, the others “freeze,” their mannequin-like state belied only by blinking eyes and an occasional shaky hand.

As the spirited witch, Deborah Sharn comes out rapping about Jack’s theft of her magic legumes: “I let him go, I didn’t know, he’d stolen my beans.” Other voices of note include Christina Rios as Cinderella and JT Ricroft as the baker, who must, along with his wife, collect four items –– including Little Red Riding Hood’s cape –– to make a potion that will enable them to have a child.

At the end of Act I, it seems that fairytales indeed do come true. But the light mood shifts dramatically in Act II, illustrating that sometimes the woods is a scary place after all.

Leave your comments here or on our FaceBook page.

by Nancy Larson

The Shame of Fame — the 2009 version Movie Review

With great anticipation I entered the theater to view the much-hyped 2009 version of the now classic 1980 original Fame. With no preconceived opinions of the film, I took my seat — popcorn and peanut M & Ms in hand.

At the time I was thinking it would be unfair to make any comparisons between the two. After all, dance and music have come so far in the past 30 years. But a feature film about kids in a school of performing arts would have to be incredible.

The first seven minutes of the film did not disappoint. The collage of “improved” dance, music and vocals that came together in the school’s lunchroom was an exciting intro to what should have been an artistic adventure.

Instead, the audience was privy to four great music videos (a special mention goes to the “CarnEvil” scene) strung together with sketchy story lines for far too many characters. Except for Denise and maybe Malik, you don’t really get to know any of them well enough to care — or even see how they truly had transitioned over their four years in school. And there was no fluidity. By the time the aspiring ballet dancer lost all hope, I had forgotten he was in the movie and even his name. That’s pretty bad since Kevin is my brothers’ name.

There also were an inordinate number of scenes where the high school kids found themselves in some very adult situations without any adults present. Sure, we are living in different times, but this was hard to swallow. Apparently, the attempt here was to show how difficult the world can be for those who truly want to make it. Point made... I guess.

A few great actors — Charles Dutton, Kelsey Grammer, Bebe Neuwirth… — as teachers and mentors were thrown in to add some spice to the mix but their roles fell flat. Of course, the story is about the kids but the audience should be given a little more than a cheap Karaoke performance from Megan Mullally to give credence to her as one who could inspire these “wanna be” stars.

The shame of Fame is that there are very talented dancers, singers and actors that just simply were not given the time to shine in a two-hour film. No doubt you will be seeing a lot more of Naturi Naughton who played Denise (I think she’s got a good agent).

But all in all, this was a “wait-for-video” film for me.

Leave your comments here or on our FaceBook page.

by Michelle E. Latney

The Mercy Papers chronicles a mother’s death, a young woman’s grief Book Review

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance: The five stages of grief as identified by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross are all there in Robin Romm’s The Mercy Papers, a Memoir of Three Weeks. But it’s the first three that have Romm in a vise grip in her raw rendering of the final weeks before her 56-year-old mother Jackie succumbs to the cancer she fought for nine years.

In a non-linear journal of the time she spent on deathwatch in her parents’ house —along with her father, her dog Mercy, other assorted canines and cats, friends, family and a parade of nurses and social workers — Romm seems literally to pour out blood and guts as she tells her story. She minces no words when it comes to the emotional and visual horrors of the advanced disease resulting in tumors protruding through her mother’s skin and threatening to split open her distorted purple breast.

But the book is not without its humorous moments — though they always are tinged with sadness — like a description of Mercy dressed for Halloween in a Brussels sprout hat and an old, green, too-big dog sweater. The levity is lost on Jackie, though, whose steady doses of morphine leave her semi-conscious much of the time.

Throughout the book, Romm struggles mightily with the fact that she can’t tell her mom — once a vivacious, passionate attorney — that it’s OK for her to die. Toward the end, when Romm confesses this dilemma to her mother, she finds it doesn’t matter. “I dun need your permission,” her mother says with slurred speech.

“This is what I wanted to hear; it’s my release,” Romm writes. But even in moments like this, the heavy cloud of dread and grief still hangs over every word, every paragraph and every chapter.

Indeed, Romm does not once blink in her stark tale of death. Her anger and sadness are not tied up in a pretty, silver-lining conclusion. The point of the book seems to only be this: to tell the truth about love and loss.

But there is an important take-home lesson here: Spend time now with the ones you love. In that vein, The Mercy Papers serves as a cautionary tale to those who still have their mothers — and a resonant survivor’s song for those who don’t.

“The Mercy Papers, a Memoir of Three Weeks,” by Robin Romm. Simon & Schuster, 2009. 211 pages.

Leave your comments here or on our FaceBook page.

by Nancy Larson

‘Waiting for Daisy’ not your typical infertility saga Book Review

At 35, Peggy Orenstein’s feelings about motherhood suddenly blast through ambivalence, race toward desire and speed straight to obsession. It’s a familiar theme: another 30- or 40-something woman who has put off pregnancy only to discover she really might not be able to have it all.

But while there have been countless books and articles about the seesaw struggle of infertility, Orenstein’s memoir is honest, insightful and even funny.

With one ovary and a singular vision, the successful feminist author’s quest at one point leads her to a destination well-known to many couples: in vitro fertilization. To initiate that process, Orenstein is instructed to give herself injections of the purified urine of postmenopausal Italian nuns.

It’s a new spin on the concept of immaculate conception, Orenstein writes, a child to be conceived not through intercourse, but after a virgin’s pee helps produce an abundance of eggs. “Putting voodoo dolls beneath my mattress no longer seemed so unreasonable,” Orenstein realizes. But neither spells nor needles do the trick.

That her marriage stays intact is the true miracle. Orenstein does not mince words about the toll that sex on demand, her necessary self-absorption and a calendar completely controlled by her cycles took on their relationship. “I can’t do this,” her husband admits, telling her he will only continue to try for a baby if she dials back her desperation.

With her fingers crossed behind her back, Orenstein promises to stop caring so much. Feeling like a complete failure, she takes in a stray cat, then a young friend willing to lend her womb. Almost no option goes untried.

In another literary work whose title also begins with “Waiting for” but ends with “Godot,” the subject of the characters’ anticipation never shows up. This book may not be quite as important as Samuel Beckett’s epic play, but for the reader and the author, its ending is worth the wait.

By Nancy Larson

“The Veronicas Sweeten Up Sauget” Concert Review

The Veronicas

Call it “chick rock,” but I’m not sure they’ll mind. This doll-sized duo from Australia packs a pretty powerful right hook. With vibrantly fierce pop-punk melodies and fem-tastically bold lyrics, “girl power” is here to stay.

Identical twins Lisa and Jess Origliasso made a two-for-one splash in the industrially grimey Sauget as they performed for a small hoard of screaming teens and tweens. As the shimmery, doe-eyed duo shimmied and bopped across the stage to the opening track, “Untouched”, ear-slicing squeals shook the air. Hot-pink-and-glitter-clad bodies jumped and flailed bangled arms in the air.

The exquisite and funky Aussie fashionistas took turns shaking their petite booties and strutting from one end of the stage to the other, shaking outstretched fan hands, singing to the lead guitarist or bassist, and rocking out with each other. Between songs, they thanked the squealing audience with thick Australian accents, claiming that they were having “so much fun.”

In spite of Jess’s recent blonde makeover, the twins’ sugary, buzzing vocals were indistinguishable from one another. Swapping vocal parts like raiding each others’ closets, the two shared the spotlight with equal relish. While one twin sang into the microphone, the other sang her heart out along with her sister.

During their cover of the mid-90s Tracy Bonham rock hit, “Mother Mother,” the leather-jacket-swathed Lisa took the lead vocal, while the spandex-wrapped Jess screeched, “Everything’s fine!” For the unreleased (in the U.S.), “Everything,” Jess picked up her guitar for a bit of snapping pop rock, joined in adorable vocal harmony by her twin. Each track pumped with enough alt-chick-punk-rocker passion to embody a modern day Joan Jett, doubled and intensified.

The band’s most recent hit, “Take Me on the Floor,” with its electro-rock synth serenade, roused more squeals. Drummer Vik Foxx hammered the beats with true rock showmanship: stick spins, tosses, and hairy head banging. New bassist, Sherman, commanded the synth and the bassline with charmed enthusiasm uncharacteristic of the typically solid, stoic bass player role. Guitarist Jungle George, with his emo kid hair, sizzled the strings for some blazing lead solos.

Lyrics like “I wanna kiss a girl/I wanna kiss a boy,” may have been a little too suggestive for some of the younger audience members, hanging on balcony railings with tolerant adults chilling out in the background. But some of the lyrics, like in “Revenge is Sweeter Than You Ever Were,” or “Everything I’m Not,” spoke directly to the angsty teen heart and sought to lift it up from the dregs. As the twins belted out songs about not changing for anyone, they embodied the self esteem-boosting paradigm, and you could believe them, whether you were 8, 18 or 80.

“Acousterizing,” as Jess put it, the two picked the heart-breakers, “This Love,” and “Heavily Breaking.” Both songs showcased Lisa and Jess’s strong, yet sweet vocal stylings, but lyrically neither track was particularly profound. Girls, you’re great, but stick to the plugged version of yourselves next time.

The encore performance went out with a bang with the emotionally vindictive “This is How it Feels.” Swallowing down such bitter emotion requires the right amount of honey, which The Veronica’s have in spades. Accept no substitutes. Like rock n roll, girl power is here to stay.

Leave your comments here or on our FaceBook page.

by Solange Deschatres

Under the SpellNew Line Theatre’s Putnam County Spelling Bee is loads of f-u-n Theatre Review

It was just like back in third grade, where I misspelled secretary with an “a” in the middle instead of an “e.” But 40-odd years and many misspellings later, it was “lues,” a rarely used word for syphilis, that bounced me from the bee.

Part of the fun of The Putnam County Spelling Bee is the nightly addition of three audience members, chosen from a list of reckless souls who sign up to be onstage. Before I was called to the microphone, two cast contestants whispered: “You can ask for a definition and ask to have the word used in a sentence.” “But don’t try to be funny,” warned the character of Marcy Park (Alexis Kinney), an overachiever who speaks six languages, plays three instruments and is not allowed to cry.

Marcy is one of six elementary school spellers whose angst illustrates the toll that competition takes on us all. Others include William Barfee (Nicholas Kelly), a nasally sounding boy with only one working nostril and a magic spelling foot; Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre (Emily Berry), whose two dads’ last names are Schwartz and Grubenierre; and Leaf Coneybear (Aaron Allen), a second runner-up who’s only there because the two who finished ahead of him had to go to a bat mitzvah. Mitch Mahoney (John Rhine) is an ex-con with a community service obligation to be a “Comfort Counselor” who gives hugs and hands out juice boxes to the losers (mine was apple).

New Line’s production at Washington University’s South Campus Theatre (the old CBC High School) was poignant and funny. Barfee (pronounced “BarFAY”) -- who at first bristles and corrects the judges when they mispronounce it “Barfy” but is later worn down to a resigned “Whatever” -- carried off the renowned magic foot spelling song and routine with aplomb.

The signature piece of Boy Scout Chip Tolentino (Mike Dowdy), “My Unfortunate Erection,” exemplifies why, even though the play’s characters are children, it’s more of an adult performance, complete with certain four-letter words that everyone knows how to spell.

Also not to be missed is the sharp performance of Deborah Sharn as a co-judge and former spelling bee champ Rona Lisa Peretti (she reminds us several times that she won with the word “syzygy”). That the meaning of her prize-winning word is “a type of unity” is fitting, as the spellers discover they all have nerdiness and insecurity in common. Judge and Vice Principal Douglas Panch (Brian Claussen) is also their soulmate in that regard.

Sabotage, the casting off of perfection, and the tender beginnings of love stir the emotional pot of act two. In the end, only one speller emerges victorious, but everyone who came to see the play also wins, in terms of money and time well spent for a night’s entertainment.

Leave your comments here or on our FaceBook page.


by Nancy Larson