The Edge of Allegiance (Part 2) ( 1 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 )July
20. Rebunking And Postelle Pringle.
Magical superstar Michael Weber was in town for a couple of days. He
suggested going to see a new musical, Harlem Song, previewing at Harlem's famous
Apollo Theatre. Somewhat brilliantly, we got there too late for one performance and too
early for the next, so we spent three hours in a café yakking magic and drinking
cool drinks (NY was having a heatwave). We got talking about TV shows that 'debunk'
psychic claims. I said that as soon as one show 'debunks' something, two other shows come
along promoting psychic silliness in the usual gullible tones. "Right", said
Michael, "what you might call re-bunking". And so the term 're-bunking'
was born.
When we finally got to the Apollo, I greatly enjoyed the usher's introductory spiel:
"Welcome to the world famous Apollo Theatre, where stars are born and legends are
made. Please proceed to the far side of the aisle where your usher will meet you, greet
you and seat you". They say this to everyone, at every show.
It's a wonderful theatre, and Harlem Song is a great show. The star is Harlem itself:
its history, music, culture, people and character, celebrated in music, song, dance and
sketches. It's a high-octane hit of a show with a hard-working and multi-talented cast,
and I enjoyed every second.
I always buy a theatre programme and scan the names for gems. For example, one of the
companies involved in Harlem Song was 'Batwin + Robin Productions'. I bet
everyone calls them 'Batman & Robin'. Laboured 'Batman' puns must be an everyday
feature of the workplace.
'Batwin + Robin' also employ some great people. They have two Video Assistants, for
example, called Cagdas Arpac and Zachary Borovay. I wonder how many times 'Cagdas' has to
spell that out on the phone? For extra joy, the Video Researcher was Postelle Pringle.
I've never met Postelle Pringle, but I think I'm in love with her. It would be worth
pursuing a relationship just for the intense pleasure of being able to introduce her to
friends. "Hi everyone. This is Postelle. Postelle Pringle."
In the evening I rushed down to Times Square to see another show: Mind Freak
starring Criss Angel. I think that's a stage name. I hope it's a
stage name.
If nothing else, the show is a triumph of staging. The venue is a cramped basement the
exact shape of something not very well-shaped for staging a magic show, or any
show for that matter. It could hold roughly 100 people, all of whom faced a choice unique
in theatrical history. You could be close enough to the stage to see what's going on,
which meant getting jets of dry ice blasted down your spine at startling moments. Or you
could relax safely beyond the ice jets, but also largely unable to see what Criss is doing
for half the time he's doing it. I was one of the 12 under the dry ice jets, and I think
this is the lesser of two evils, my chilled vertebrae notwithstanding.
The show is an ambitious fusion of many ideas and disciplines (magic, mime, mask,
dance, music etc.), all wrapped in a fast-moving 'goth rock' presentation. I admired the
ambition, the energy and the sheer determination to deliver a new kind of magic
experience. It wasn't perfect, and the gothic posturing gets tiresome fast. However, Criss
is a young guy with his own style, his own show and his own name on a marquee in Times
Square, and that's a darned impressive achievement. The magic covered all the bases from
cards to doves to razor blades, and included at least two outstanding moments of magical brilliance.
According to the programme, Criss's costume was created by someone called Barak
Stribling. If I ever get the chance to work with someone called Barak Stribling, I'm going
to take it. I also liked the name of the Artistic Director: Bruce Lumpkin.
July 21. A Helicopter Lottery And 'Sorted'.
A day mostly spent hanging around with Andy Costello, magician, author, dramatist, all-round likeable person
and a resident New Yorker.
I had picked up a leaflet for helicopter rides over Manhattan, and Andy expressed
interest so off we went to the helipad. On a 1991 visit to New York I was going to try a
touristy helicopter ride but my friends at the time dissuaded me, saying the helicopters
crashed a lot. I suspect this was a little over-stated, but in any case there is a better
reason not to go for one of these rides. Quite simply, the leaflet and the reality enjoy a
cheese / moon rock relationship.
The leaflet gushes thus: "See the United States' most famous landmark, The Statue
of Liberty, so close you can almost reach out and touch her!". This blurb is
accompanied by an endearingly impossible photo composite, of the type usually filed on
someone's hard drive as "PhotoShopDay1/TestFile1.jpg":
In reality, when we got down to the helipad there was an entire wall (no
exaggeration) of neatly-framed small print, the gist of which was: 'We promise nothing. If
the chopper goes up and comes down again, we've honoured the deal and you don't get a
refund'. If you mention the leaflet / reality gap, as I did, they mumble about Sept. 11th
and airspace restrictions.
They fly passengers in groups of six. Two go on the front seat next to the pilot and
get a superb view. The other four sit in a row behind. Of these four, the two on the
window seats get a view which is restricted but acceptable. The other two passengers, on
the back row and in the middle, see nothing so clearly as the heads of other passengers.
Just to labour the point, here's the sort of view promised in the leaflet:
 
...and here's an actual photo taken during the ride, featuring the head of a nice old
lady sitting next to the pilot:
If the helicopter people want this photo for their glossy leaflets, I'm prepared to
make it available for a nominal sum.
You don't get any choice where you sit, so it's a lottery. And at 94 dollars for a 10
minute ride, quite an expensive lottery at that. I would also like to mention the richly
detailed and informative pilot's commentary we got, laced with typical New York wit. It
went like this: "See that stuff down there? That's New York". That's all we got.
If the ride fell short of expectations, I should add that when the view was
good, it was great, and I got some good shots:
 
Fun with statistics: the first helicopter flight took place in
1924, when Etienne Oehmichen flew his machine one kilometer. (One month later he was
printing up glossy leaflets that mis-described sight-seeing trips for gullible tourists.)
After the giddy joys of our thrilling helicopter ride, Andy and I took a cab to
Greenwich Village. This is one of the best places in the world for aimless meandering,
which is exactly how we filled the next hour or so. Among other treasures, we found a very
good book store with possibly the best name in the world 'Unoppressive Non-Imperialist
Bargain Books'.
Having 'done' the Village, we repaired to a nearby diner. At Andy's request, I taught
him some 'Cockney rhyming slang' and related London argot. He was especially interested to
learn about the London expression 'Sorted!', which has 27 different meanings according to
context. These include:
- I agree with your stated plan
- Our financial transaction is concluded
- I have taken steps to ensure that person will no longer be a nuisance to us
- That meal was very good and I feel much better
- I have obtained tickets for the event, but decline to say how I did so
- I soon expect to enjoy an intimate relationship with a young woman I've just seen
> > > Continued in Part 3
|
