Short Cuts: Apple Picking, Equus on Broadway, and Linda's

Shortcuts...where you get three posts for the price of one, hahaha!

Autumn in New York has become a romantic cliché, associated with montages of Richard Gere and Winona Ryder walking through the glorious riot of color in Central Park (to tell you the truth, I invented this, as I cannot remember anything from that movie, except that he was her mother’s boyfriend – ack!). 

In the Bronx, however, fall just passes by.  October brings in the first exams of the semester, and by the time you are finally done with grading that evil Statistics exam, the leaves are no more but a mushy carpet on the damp gray pavement.  And if you are really lucky, you would have to walk under a gingko tree and step on the foul smelling seeds that are rotting on the ground.  

So sometimes fall isn’t that beautiful.  Then one day, I find an email from a cousin wondering if I would like to join the family for a morning of apple picking.

The drive up to the apple orchard took about an hour (including wrong turns :)) from the city, but I wasn’t really paying attention.  The leaves along the parkway were just starting to get showy, and for the gazillionth time I cursed myself for having forgotten my camera (borrowed my cousin's for a few shots).  

The main event was short and sweet (we only needed to fill two bags of apples…unfortunately, each bag cost about $24) with lots of “Adam and Eve” photos and ooh-ing and aah-ing  over the nice shiny apples.  It was a bit crowded at the orchard, but being out there in the sunshine and the crisp country air with nothing but apples and trees and good company was a Saturday morning well spent.

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The other night, Roomie and I went to see the highly-anticipated Peter Shaffer play Equus playing at the Broadhurst Theatre (see Roomie's post here). Although I am a fan of Amadeus (probably Shaffer’s most well-known work) this play is probably not something that we would have thought of seeing if not for the fact that everyone was fighting for tickets during its West End run.  One of the main reasons Londoners went bonkers over this production can be summed up in two words:  Daniel Radcliffe.  Yes, the actor playing that famous boy wizard was making his Broadway debut (oh please, don’t pretend that you haven’t read or seen Harry Potter).  And, yes, he will be waving his wand (no, it’s not holly with a phoenix feather core).

This is supposed to be a short cut,  so I’ll try to make this quick.  The production itself was excellent, with minimal sets that allow the people (and horses) in the play to produce maximum impact.  By the way, whoever ordered the air conditioning on full blast was a genius...it certainly helped produce the chilling atmosphere in the theatre.  

Richard Griffiths, playing a child psychiatrist unsatisfied with his work, was funny, sympathetic, restrained and totally comfortable with the role (as usual – see the History Boys for reference).  Still hate his delivery though.  Repeat after me girls and boys:  E-nun-ci-ate!  I missed a lot of good jokes.  But then, that could be because I’m old and deaf….

Daniel Radcliffe (in my head, I still call him Harry) has improved much since the early Chris Columbus Potter movies, though he still carries himself very stiffly onstage. Though, if I were playing a 17-year-old boy who blinds six horses with a hoof pick, I would be walking around like a big block of cement, too.  It’s time for Mr. Radcliffe to play a less tortured role.  (His stint on Ricky Gervais’ Extras was hilarious – is it too early for him to make a Dancing with the Stars appearance?)  

None of the secondary characters were particularly engaging, except for T. Ryder Smith, who plays the patriarch of the little dysfunctional family on the prairie.  And kudos to the “horses” who were walking around on those heels/hooves.  I wore kitten heels that night, and I (like the old lady that I am) can still feel it in my joints.  I regret not reading the play ahead of time, because I had to concentrate hard to hang on every word (damn Mr. Griffiths and his mumbling!).  I probably won’t see it again as Broadway tickets are too rich for my blood, but if there’s a film version, I would probably see it (paging Nicholas Hytner!).

Now that I've seen my first Broadway play, I'm kinda tempted to watch Frank Langella as Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons.  If only the tickets weren't so damn expensive.

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Anyone who’s remotely interested in fashion has heard of Tim Gunn.  Anyone who’s heard of Tim Gunn has probably seen his makeover show.  And anyone who has seen his show has seen Veronica Webb bring the willing "victims" to Linda Becker’s Bra Salon.  Intrigued by the statement that 8 out of 10 women wear the wrong size bra, I made an appointment with Linda herself.  She was very gracious and helpful, and seemed amused that she was known even halfway around the world.  

 

She did find that I was wearing the wrong size, but she was able to rectify that in the hour that I spent in the shop.  Needless to say, I came out an extremely happy camper.