Archive for February, 2012

THE WOODWARD/MORFOOT CONUNDRUM ~ Chilling with Oscar

Monday, February 27th, 2012

“As you all know by now, this is the 51st annual Academy Awards. Two hours of sparkling entertainment spread out over a four-hour show.”

⁓Johnny Carson

I love the Oscars. I know, I know. They can be long and annoying (or as Vincent Canby so eloquently said, they hold “the solemnity of the annual Nobel ceremonies in Stockholm with the cheerful bad taste of the grand opening of a shopping center in Los Angeles.”) While I agree with Mr. Canby, I still can’t get enough. I like to see who’s wearing what and I love movies—I’ve watched the Academy Awards ever since I can remember.

Although last night’s telecast didn’t quite hold as much precedence as years past, it proved to be a nostalgic evening in the Kauffman/Morfoot household. Seven years ago my husband Ross and I were full of glitz and glam ourselves. Actually, Ross was full of glitz and glam—me, not so much. Ross walked the red carpet outside the (then) Kodak Theater in a newly purchased Gucci tux, chatted with Joan Rivers, and later that evening accepted an Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. The statue now sits (slightly crooked) on a bookshelf in our den. I also went to The Academy Awards that year. No, I was not Ross’s date, I was working in the press room, backstage with my fellow haggard journalists wearing the same dress I’d worn to my senior prom. (You can read all the juicy details in an piece I wrote for Marie Claire about the night HERE.)

In subsequent years, living in New York, Ross and I have continued to celebrate the movie industry’s biggest night. Because of Ross’s documentary work and my freelance Variety assignments, we’ve found ourselves partying on Oscar night in some exciting ways: sipping “Atonement” champagne at Elaine’s next to celebrities, drinking “Juno & Juice” gin cocktails at the Spotted Pig, chatting with Martin Bregman about Dog Day Afternoon at an Academy member’s party in some swanky hotel. Then, last January, our son Harry arrived and Oscar festivities took a backseat. If I remember correctly, last year we fell asleep before Jeff Bridges handed Natalie Portman the statue. This year, the red carpet had to wait—Harry likes his routine: 6:30 dinner, 7:00 bath, and 7:30 bedtime. After that I made a broccoli dish while Ross grilled a steak. When dinner was ready and we could finally rest, we settled in on the couch and turned on the tube just in time to see Billy Crystal’s opening monologue.

Although jeans and t-shirts replaced my prom dress and Ross’s Gucci tux, I can’t say that I would change anything about this year’s Oscar celebration. Unlike years past, when I was hobnobbing with the industry’s elite, this year I got to relax, let my hair down, and take it all in. I was able to enjoy the show for once (or at least the first two hours). It was a nice break from the chaos. That said, I hope to return to the Oscars someday wearing something a tad more elegant than my prom dress.

Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School. Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry. Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.

THE WISDOM OF DESIRE ~ The Egalitarianization of Inequality

Saturday, February 25th, 2012

I know. It feels like you’ve been asleep for a long time now, and you keep asking yourself how things ended up this way. Everyone is trying to figure it out, with books and studies popping up faster than toadstools after a rainstorm. The one thing I’m really starting to notice, however, is a threatening and disquieting social movement: the egalitarianization of inequality.

In other words, the social changes that so much of my generation fought, marched, and got arrested for—civil rights, gay rights, gender rights—have met with an equal and opposite movement that is just as widespread, and one that purports to be just as “egalitarian” at its core. At one point, we were working towards opportunities for all. Now, we seem to be “comfortable” (one of my favorite buzzwords in business Newspeak) with inequality.

The statistics on it are scary: a majority of people in the U.S. now believe that we have hit about as much “equality” as we are going to get. According to a December 2011 Gallup poll on attitudes towards inequality, 54% of Americans believe that income inequality is an “acceptable part of our economic system.” This is a 9% increase since 1998. So things are equal, just, and appropriate, and if you don’t measure up it’s own your fault, sucker!

Back in the Clinton era, when the new Ultra-Libertarianism (pace Ron Paul) was rearing it’s pretty head, I coined the term IGMNYGY (pronounced I-GUM-NIGGY), which stands for I got mine, now you get yours! This was similar to another buzzword from that time: NIMBY (Not in My Back Yard!), and it suited a period of expansion and short-sighted economy and culture. You could get as rich as you wanted, even if a lot of your wealth was only on paper and could disappear at any minute. Still, somebody had to be left with the goodies in the end, and it might as well be you (or me), but definitely not him or her—the poor schnorers out on the street who just forgot to get rich.

I credit a timeless corporate message for getting us to this point: Winning is not everything, it’s the ONLY thing. You win, you get the Lexus; you lose, you get McDonald’s. But what’s even stranger is the notion that you don’t lose with McDonald’s because McDonald’s is still as American as the Lexus. In fact, the only people who lose these days are those who aren’t American at all. This brings us the to rabid anti-immigrant sentiment in this country, though anyone who has ever worked in construction, agriculture, or tourism knows that without an immigrant population, much of American business would collapse. Who the hell else is gonna shingle your roof, clean out your chimney, wash your dishes, or make your bed at Motel 6?

So we have the charming idea that winning and losing is all the same thing: both are all-American, and the more media attention it gets, the more American it is. Daring to disagree with this economic structure—and its strange handmaiden the “culture”—means you don’t deserve to be in it anyway.

If all of this sounds as cold as Newt Gingrich’s testicles and even more Ayn Randian than she herself could stand, you’re right. And the thing that’s really peculiar about it is how young people have bought into it with such delight. It is now cool to not only ignore your neighbor (because you’re too busy on your iPhone), but to genuinely loathe him. Part of this is from being simply overworked: the stakes are now too high (like your rent), the fall too hard (I see way too many people who look just like me sleeping on cardboard), and the competition too cut-throat. Even our beloved billionaire mayor gets a whiff of it every now and then, acknowledging that there are “real people” out there beyond the Upper East Side.

Still, the idea that if you really did deserve to be in the “in crowd” (the Upper 1%, the big winners of the Lottery of Life) then you’d be in it, is rampant. And deadly. Twice as many people now die from suicide in this country than murder (who the hell ever thought we’d reach that stat?).  And so we’ve arrived at a static plateau of horrifying nihilism, minus the groovy existential fun of the ’50s, when there were beatnik poets and bongo drums to keep us entertained.

The fun has been drained out of the system because there is no alternative. Nihilism is great when you have some bozos around who still believe in optimism. But I’m afraid those delightful clowns, the ones who really move the scenery back and forth in the great show of life, have left the stage.

Wouldn't you like to be part of the 1%? Just one of the many posters for New York Lottery's new "Yeah, that kind of rich" campaign.

Perry Brass’s latest book, The Manly Art of Seduction, is an IPPY Gold Medal Winner and very much about the “Wisdom of Desire.” His next book, The King of Angels, is set in 1963 Savannah and is described as “a gay, Southern, Jewish coming of age story.” For more information, check out his website HERE.

 

YORKVILLE: STOOPS TO NUTS ~ There is a Rose in Spanish Harlem

Friday, February 24th, 2012

Though my family’s been on York Avenue since 1896, my mother’s roots started in East Harlem. She was born on 118th Street and Second Avenue in 1930. Her family left there for the St. Lucy’s parish on 104th Street between First and Second Avenues in the mid-1930s.

Above is a photo of mom’s family in their 104th Street apartment right before they moved into the East River Houses in 1941. This photo is in the public housing archive at LaGuardia College. The photo was supposed to be the “then” photo in a “now and then” series that the New York City Housing Authority was doing at the time to promote the quality of the new apartments their low income residents were moving into.

My grandfather was born at 239 East 113th Street in 1900, and my grandmother was born on 112th Street and Fifth Avenue in a brownstone in 1905. As a little girl, her job was polishing the banisters on Saturday mornings.

Last week, I wrote about my walk through West Harlem on a frigid morning in January. That Friday, when I left the Mount Morris area, I walked east on 116th Street to Lexington Avenue and made the rest of my way south towards Yorkville through the center of East Harlem. Take a look:

By the end of the walk, I couldn’t feel the tips of my fingers to work my camera. It was worth it. Harlem, East and West, are gorgeous, interesting neighborhoods. See more photos HERE.

And to warm your soul, here is Ben E. King singing “Spanish Harlem.”

 

Thomas Pryor has been featured on A Prairie Home Companion and This American Life, and his work has appeared in the New York Times. He curates City Stories: Stoops to Nuts, a storytelling show at the Cornelia Street Café on the second Tuesday of the month (next show March 13th). Check out his blog Yorkville: Stoops to Nuts.