The company of the forthcoming revival of A Streetcar Named Desire showed up at B. Smith’s in midtown last night to eat, drink and discuss their new revival of the Tennessee Williams masterpiece. Attendees included director Emily Mann as well as Blair Underwood, making his Broadway debut as Stanley, in addition to Nicole Ari Parker (Blanche), Daphne Rubin-Vega (Stella), and Wood Harris (Mitch).

What’s notable, of course, about this cast, is that it includes actors of color in traditionally white roles. (Show executive producers Stephen Byrd and Alia Jones brought a similarly interracial look to Broadway with their revival of another Williams’ classic, Cat on A Hot Tin Roof).

“It just seemed like an obvious way to do the play,” Mann said of the race-specific casting. Mann herself is quote familiar with the William’s oeuvre; she was the first woman to ever direct The Glass Menagerie, a play she has gone on to direct again, as well as productions of Cat and Suddenly, Last Summer. “It speaks to the meaning of New Orleans, that gumbo of ethnicity.” Indeed, the DuBois sisters played by Parker and Rubin-Vega will be descended from French Huguenots.

“Stella is tough,” Rubin-Vega said of her put-upon character. “I identified with her sense of overwhelm!” she joked, later adding that “we both want to control situations, we want peace in the valley.”

Mann explained that Williams had always wanted to have an African-American cast bring his Pulitzer Prize-winner to life, but a 1955 attempt was aborted due to a conflicting production of Sweet Bird of Youth.

“The language of the play – and themes of enduring, of surviving life – lends itself to our cast,” Parker said. “It doesn’t disturb the purity of Tennessee William’s writing.” Parker went on to say that having African-American performers take on traditionally white roles shouldn’t be such a big deal. “Why not? White [actors] have been playing yellow for years!”

Underwood echoed Parker’s sentiment. “This play is beautiful poetry,” he said. “It’s about passion, it’s about desire. That’s why it’s a classic. And it is a true ensemble.”

“We’re planning to connect with the audience, like a band,” Harris said of that ensemble element. “Everyone plays an instrument.” (On that note, jazz musician Terence Blanchard will provide an original musical score for this revival.)

“Like Wood says,” Underwood said, “we’re playing a tune.”

Audiences can hear that tune when previews for the show begin on at the Broadhurst Theatre on April 3.

More information can be found at http://streetcaronbroadway.com/

Have I been living under a rock for the past ten years? I am completely incapable of playing “the game”. What are the rules? When do they apply? Help!

Disclaimer: The following post is in no way a statement that men are the sex that should be pursued. In my total and utter belief, the old renaissance idea of courtship is ideal, complete with white powdered faces, pocket watches and line dancing. However, given the nature of this question I will be focusing on the ways to pursue a man based on the relationship you seek. I am unable to write about how to pursue women in this way, because I am simply NOT QUALIFIED! You are a far more complex creature than we troglodytic Neanderthals, and should be respected as such. Given this disclaimer, the following is not a “He’s Just Not That Into You,” sort of self-help post. If he’s not into you, drop him. He’s not worth wasting your time.

One Nighter: Men aren’t the only ones who need sex. Fact. It’s not talked about as much, and the old double standard of “player” to “slut” is a sad thing in our (somewhat) evolved present. Women should enjoy their sexual appetites to the fullest of their capabilities. We only live once, right? Even so, if you’re really looking for a quick hit and run, best not to talk about it with your friends. They will try to discourage you, which will in no way help loosen your inhibitions for Rompfest 2012.

It’s a common misconception that in the pursuit of the male species women should go out and group up. We men are children. Very sensitive children. It’s hard to move past the cowardice of breaking the ice with one woman, much less seven. By all means, go out with your girlfriends and be on the hunt, but I recommend you split off from the group as quickly as possible. Plant yourself in densely populated area (i.e. By the bar, on the dance floor). Engrain yourself as part of the crowd and at once removed from it. When the right guy asks to buy you a drink; think about it for a second. Do not immediately nod your head. Think it over, shrug your shoulders as if to say, “why not,” and head to the bar. Play the mysterious one.

You’re most likely in a bar or a nightclub, there are too many aural and visual stimulants for us to comprehend long drawn out statements, so make physical contact. If it’s a younger guy you’re looking for, play with his hair. He’s still vulnerable to mommy syndrome, and this coddling will have him cooing in your hands. If it’s an older man, go for forearm or upper arm. It’ll give him a chance to feel muscular and at ease. If you’ve gotten this far, you’re in. Take him home and kick him out. If he wants to take you out and you’re into it, then go for it. If you don’t ever want to see the dude again, tell him you have a boyfriend. It gives him a story and lets him down easy.

Sex Buddies: Ahhh doom of the doom-ed. That fickle two-backed beast of mischief: sex buddies. Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. No strings. The tango of the tempest. If you really want to give this a shot (and I highly recommend that you do not) you will need guile. You should already have someone in mind, most likely a new male friend. There should be obvious mutual attraction, but the way you two can hang should be right on the line of romantic and platonic. “Grab dinner, and then grab a beer?” Perfect. Eventually the topic of sex will come up, and this is where the tricks begin. Personally, I’ve found that women I’ve had casual sex relationships with tend to start off by saying that they don’t get emotionally connected to most of the men they sleep with. They say this as if to put me at ease. I’ve talked to other guys about this as well, and they agree: WE DON’T BELIEVE YOU. It only freaks us out more. Immediately our mind races to the thought, what if I’m the first one she likes… We get scared, and wait for the inevitable. Even if it’s true, why talk about it? What good does it do? None. Prove it through action. Allow yourself to be seen as a sexual individual. Talk about how you take pleasure in sex, this gets us thinking about what it would be like to be with you, rather than the cold mentality of, “I don’t ever get attached.” Once the relationship begins be ready for drama on either side. One of you guys is going to try turning this into a booty call, and there is a definite difference between the two. You need to be mature about it. Remember that you started as friends, and have now integrated sex into the great relationship you had before. Don‘t let things get weird, making it solely about the sex. It will dwindle into rage and hurt feelings. Always have a back up, whether it’s someone you’re casually dating or just someone to boost your ego on the nights when your fuck buddy is being an idiot. This goes for men as well. Feelings will get hurt if all energy is focused on one individual when something as personal as sex is handled immaturely.

Relationship: This is probably the simplest of all. Weird, right? There’s just one major factor to it. Wait. Dear God WAIT! If you seriously want a relationship with the dude you’re seeing (and be sure you do), wait as long as you possibly can to have sex with him. When men sleep with someone on the first date, they lose interest in the personality. Their brains kickstart from getting to know you, to getting laid by you. The getting to know part is when you find out about compatibility. I’m not saying pull a Sister Mary; foreplay is more than welcome. Go to town on it, and make sure he reciprocates. I’m just saying, no penetration for the first few weeks, and the longer you can hold back everything else, the better off you’ll be. Do not get possessive or needy, think about how big of a turn off that is when guys are to you. What goes around comes around.

With all these devices and more of our lives being defined in code every day, we will inevitably find ourselves at the mercy of the electronic equivalent of bag snatchers. E-Bags, if you will. These aren’t master hackers, or whatever. These aren’t your c0mrades (RIP), your Zero Cools, or even your Dexter Douglases. These are just random jerks with a computer and just enough reason to figure it out. Even so, cyber crimes like identity theft cost United States households, like, $13.3 billion in 2010.

But what can you do? Seems like, truth be told, not much. If these criminals are able to fell The Department of Justice website, and snake files out of places like Stratfor, then what chance do we have? Somini Sengupta over at that other New York paper, Yesterday’s News…I mean, The Times, mused recently on how the bright side of this #HackAttack super-trend sounds “the alarm about the unguarded state of corporate computer systems.” Fair enough, but I hear another alarm. It’s coming from our bedside tables, it’s telling us that we need to get up, shoot a 5-Hour Energy, and get to work. Big companies and government agencies aren’t the only ones who need to learn a little about The System.

I’m  not saying that we should all go out and become computer scientists, or even DIY robot hobbyists, though if you did manage to scrape together something excellent, @Kickstarter might just make you a mint. Either way, if you’re going to live in the Age of the Nerds, you may want to don a pocket protector just so they know whose side you’re on. “When in ROM…” as they say, “…read-only.”

There are a number of resources out on the Internet to get you up to snuff. Startups like Treehouse and Codecademy look to make your learning fun. If you’ve got a touch of the artist in you, Processing is a language aimed at satisfying the need for instant gratification by serving as a sort of code sketchpad. Moving through the many tutorials, users harness the power of the Processing language to create arts. Actually cool!

While Treehouse costs a good scrap, 25 monthly bucks for the intro package, they do boast a huge number of instructional videos, and helpful texts. I can’t think of anywhere else you’d get such a great deal from obviously knowledgeable people…oh, wait…I did once hear that some two-bit school was offering full introductory courses to Computer Science, Artificial Intelligence, and Robotics online and totally for free. What school was that? That’s right: damn Stanford University. Through the Stanford Engineering Everywhere program, you can get a world class education from the comfort of your own tax deductible home/office (that’s what web developers call their studio apartments, btw), all it’ll cost you is time.

Speaking of—and, trust me, I know the market value on seconds these days—the good folks at Lifehacker recently mentioned how just thirty minutes a day can make all the difference when you’re learning something new. I’m not talking about those 30 minute pay courses, either. Really. Just sit down for 30 minutes a day and practice.

Remember, fellow Netizens: ask not what your computer can do to you, ask your computer to do anything you want it to.

Follow @44carib on @Twitter just because!

1. Shop On Etsy

You should incessantly trawl Etsy, sending your roommate link after crafty link to weird, wonderful, completely useless shit like this dinosaur planter. “I feel like shopping on Etsy is a really depressed girl thing to do,” my ultra-sensitive roommate finally said to me. So far I have purchased a dinosaur planter, embroidered Katy Perry and Beyonce pillows and some little ceramic pears that say “I Love You” on them. Etsy is basically all the stuff you never knew you needed (or even knew existed), but that is somehow completely essential to heal your broken heart.

2. Shop Generally

You need to purchase at least six new dresses that you can’t afford. You also need to spend a month’s rent on sunglasses. Max out all your credit cards. You’ll be paying for it later but it’s going to make you feel so good when you look like a damn fine hot piece of ass every time you leave the house. It might sound shallow but it’s an undeniable truth that a fancy new pair of heels can instantly restore all your self worth. Ergo, self worth from shoes = good; self worth from men = bad. Money comes and goes, but you’re only gorgeous and heartbroken for so long, you might as well make the most of it.

3. Interior Decorating

I bought a princess bed and eleventy-billion plants, and everyday I’m hatching plans to better my home. It’s therapeutic AND productive. Especially when you invite an attractive male friend over to drill stuff; just stand back and watch the manly. And while it has crossed my mind that one day when I’m not heartbroken anymore I’m going to look around my house and everything will remind me of That One Time When I Got Dumped, I’m also confident that if I play Katy Perry loud enough and jump up and down on my princess bed I’ll be like, “I don’t give a fuck cos I gotta princess bed, weeeeee!”

4.Girls Gone Wild (Male Models Optional)

My mother has always taught me the importance of gal pals and I didn’t believe her when we were all 16 and permanently PMSing, but now that I’m in my mid (OK, late) 20s it turns out that she was completely right all along and Girls Rule, Boys Drool. Get your gals together, get dressed up, ingest all sorts of things that are bad for you. You may or may not want to eventually team up with some male models for an after party and dance around to Journey, but that is optional.

5. Hermit Crabs

It’s New York so chances are you live in a shoebox, but moreover, it’s incredibly irresponsible to get a puppy when you’re this emotionally vulnerable. But you do need something living to love that is NOT a boy. I chose hermit crabs because they’re low maintenance, you can still play with them and BONUS you can paint their shells with pink glitter and give them names like Katy Perry and Beyonce.

6. Crafts

My bestie told me to get a hobby, so I bought some silicone molding to make molds of my body parts which will soon be candles. When you’re fucking up silicone molding and screeching in the kitchen trying to mix it right, the last thing you’re going to be thinking about is a broken heart. And when you finally get it right, you’ll feel very proud of yourself which takes us back to the (slightly adapted) point I made in number 2: “Ergo, self worth from craft = good; self worth from men = bad.”

7. Organized Clubs

Google documents are fun and time consuming, so is being a soccer mom. An active mind heals a broken heart, so get clubbing. So far I have started a book club, a poker night, a netball team and a witchcraft club (“light as a feather stiff as a board” anyone?).

8. Get Moving

Please, don’t develop an eating disorder or anything, but start eating healthy and exercising. You’ll feel great physically, which will make you feel better emotionally, and you’ll also get a banging bod which, if scientific equations by women’s magazines and Kate Moss are correct, will boost your self esteem by at least 247. Also, exercise promotes endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t kill their ex boyfriends.

9. Pretend vigilantism

‪You’re probably thinking of bloody murder right now (unless you’ve been on the treadmill, see above), but we’ve all seen Law & Order. Not only is it wrong, you will get caught, even if you wear gloves. Sit around with your girlfriends instead and convince yourselves you’re going to egg his house. Talk tactics and discuss how many cartons of eggs you’ll need. Really, truly believe that you are going to do this. Then don’t. The trick is in believing that you will.

10. CRY

I don’t mean a quiet tear in private that makes you look super adorable. I mean, “Someone Like You” blasting, empty bottle of red wine, guttural sobbing. To the point your friend has to sedate you with Valium and drag you into bed at 3am while you scream, “But why doesn’t he love me?” at her. It’s cathartic–you’ll wake up in the morning feeling like a brand new person.

The graffiti artist/rapper has packed up his gear and jetted out West. Don’t worry, he’ll be back to continue his mentoring work with Arts by the People. He’s just getting back to the newness of a city. Fourteen years in NYC will leave you with a warehouse of memories, which are great for a rainy day, but there ain’t many of those in LA. He’s working on his art based website Daylightcurfew and a new album, coming off the release of the Peter J produced Jackson P EP. “Two track beats, recorded at my place. It’s got a lot of looseness to it.” That looseness is rare in rap today. Overproduced white sound that ends up coming out like a brick of noise. For the idiots who are thinking awesome a brick of noise, try getting hit in the head with a brick sometime. There’s no message. No moral. CLUNK. Splat. Nada. Bling and bitches, because the bigger world don’t sell today.

Bisco thinks otherwise. And I’d have to agree.

You follow in the footsteps of other street artists turned rappers, KRS-One, Bigg Jus, etc. What have you learned from their trips? What sets you apart?
I can’t say I pay too much attention to learning from those experiences. I’m just on my own journey. I go back and forth between art and music all the time. It’s a rotation for me. I go as I go. I don’t look to others for lessons.

How do they inform each other?
There’s an audience on both sides. For me personally, they’re both releases. One’s external, one’s internal. One is conscious based, one is visual. When you’re writing and making music there’s more of a message. I was painting a lot in the mid-2000’s. Was doing a lot of walls in New York, but I wasn’t saying anything. Music attracted me because I could say more.

How has NYC inspired your music and artwork? How has LA?
I grew up romanticizing New York. Always. That place for me is the end all. After I lived in New York for 14 years-I loved it-but it’s not the same. LA is new now. It’s more inspiring in that regard, because every corner has something new. New York has a memory stamped on each block.

They’re both so different. I’m by the beach in LA, not in the city. It’s where I need to be right now. New York turned into a hamster wheel for me. I love the city and the people, but I feel like what I came for originally in the late 90’s, that energy, it’s not there as much. Maybe I’ve gotten older, but it’s not there anymore.

What’s your role in the organization Arts by the People?
My friend Gus, he reached out to me. Paul [the founder] was working with him. Working to bring up the art side of his programming. So Gus hit me up, we worked for a not-for-profit called Urban Art Beat. It started in the Bronx. I helped co-found it in 2005. Gus and I have just been back and forth on mentoring opportunities since then. Paul, the founder of Arts by the People, he’s a great guy. Really amazing energy. He brought me on. The way they run their thing is that they let you do your own thing and present it. We’ve been building a lot of different things. I feel like I’m just at the beginning.

What started your interest in graffiti?
Skateboarding man. Definitely skateboarding. When I was young the two went hand in hand, writing and skating.

In the last ten years street art has blown up to this high celebrity platform. Do you think the soul of it is still there? How do you even find clean space anymore?
I think the soul’s still there. It’s constant creativity no matter what. The space is hard. It’s dwindling in America, that’s for sure. There’s a fight for it. My root is more graffiti vs. the street art. I think the street art stuff is a whole other universe. The same rules don’t apply. I also don’t think the same spaces apply.

What are the rules of tagging?
There’s a hierarchy. Somebody will paint something, and then someone will re-paint over it, and you don’t do that kind of shit. It depends on the tag. Whose tag it is, y’know?

You’ve said your music is aurally like “therapy.” In what ways?
My style of writing is very cerebral. In the same way that I’d keep a journal or something, it helps me get the shit out of my mind. With age you change. In your 20’s it’s angst, but as you get older you have a lot more figured out. Less stress. My energy is different now. I don’t need that therapy like I used to. All creativity is therapeutic though. If I don’t make something I feel like I’m gonna go crazy.

Hip-hop has become this mass-marketed over produced junk trap, without any real messages. How do you see message driven hip-hop overtaking the platinum bangers rapping about things that don’t matter?
I don’t think it will, unless human consciousness evolves. Maybe the 2012 shift will make people smarter or change the value system. But as long as the value system is where it’s at now, it’s never going to be. But you still got Mos Def and people who are socially conscious. It’s not Lil Wayne, but I think those guys are good living artists. But we’re gonna continue to hear the junk rap on the radio until something big changes.

You run the website HYPERLINK daylightcurfew.com which is like an arts renaissance all it’s own. Do you sleep? And what do you look for in featuring content on the site?
LA got me sleeping better than New York to be honest. I keep making things. That’s the whole point of that site and the project. I’m surrounded by so many good people who do great work. Wherever I go, I find new people. It’s a no brainer giving it to the world. It’s between me and the other founders. I work with people whose aesthetics are similar to mine. No one’s vetoed anything. We’re putting quality work up there. We look for integrity. If it’s not there, it’s not gonna be respected. That’s my baby. It’s slowly growing. It’s cool.

Who do you look to for inspiration? Who’s one to look out for right now?
I’m looking at Known Gallery, they’re featuring a lot of dope stuff. I’m enjoying the West Coast and Europe more than the East Coast and Asia. Daylightcurfew isn’t a struggle, but it’s tougher for me, because I live in my own world, and I have a personal relationship with everyone I feature. I’m not looking at galleries everyday, they’re from my world. The more I make, the less I look outside the world. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but that’s how it works.

What’re you working on right now?
I have a record that I just finished, produced by two Italian guys, BQ and Ram. I collaborated with them a few years back. When I was in Europe I wrote this whole record and worked with them on it. That’s the music step. I’m not working on any major art projects, just focusing on my work with Arts by the People right now. Just keeping up my skill set and enjoying the art.

Weinman grew up in downtown Manhattan, and summered in France. He has a laidback disposition and his natural facial expression is a comfortable smile. He started shooting films in high school, unable to fully express and capture his surroundings in writing. Indeed, his films seem synonymous to a stream of consciousness. His films North South and Portiragnes are travelogues, the former about a road trip across the US where he found untouched America not in the body of a woman, but the lay of the land. The latter, a film that speaks to his summers abroad. His latest film Apsis, makes impressive use of light as a story modifier, and has shifty moments of panicked screaming and general unease.

There’s a drastic shift between the film Apsis and all of your other shorts. There’s narrative, backing sound, it’s completely black and white… What inspired that film? Where did it come from?
It’s true that my narrative shares very little in common with the lyrical films. The process is different. In my lyrical filmmaking I’m taking from the world, and then through the editing, exploring ideas that have personal relevance. So, creating an internal narrative with the external. My narrative approach has been to create a world I don’t live in, that is motivated and constructed by internal conflicts. The decision to make a narrative or a lyrical film really depends on the idea too. I don’t think the ideas explored in Apsis would have been suitable for an observational film.

What exactly were the ideas? The film itself is beautiful and has forward momentum, but I had trouble digging up the subtext.
I guess off the bat it’s a story about a devilish man who’s alone in a landscape. The film has gone through many changes in the course of its production, and it continues to take on new meanings and interpretations now that I’ve begun showing it around. A friend called it a creation story, and likened it to the myth of Uranus and Gaia. I did a lot of research on the occult in the beginning of pre-production, to get some ideas flowing. There are elements taken from that research, namely the idea of the Incubus, the male incarnation of the nightmare that stalks females in their sleep. There are also strong themes of the masculine and the feminine, the battle between the two, in this character.

What was the production of the film like?
Well we shot it in the South. There were four in the crew including myself: the cinematographer, Jake Magee, whom I collaborate with frequently and who co-founded my production company, Autoscopy Films; then my actors James Reid and Hannah Rikoon. The four of us went to the desert for five days, and then finished shooting five months later in a studio at Bard College. We thought we had finished shooting after the desert, but when I got the footage back it felt so bare, so I took five months to figure out the missing pieces. I’m lucky to have found people as creative and dedicated as those guys, film is so collaborative, the crew is essential.

There’s a prolonged gaze to your films that enhances the idea that we are getting a look into how you see the world. The story of a lot of the films seems to be how one person’s view is totally unique. How do you see your vision as part of your stories?
Feeling the perspective of the camera is important to my films, however I think the struggle in the editing is to reconsider the personal footage as symbols, to make it less personal and more accessible. For example, the shots of my family in Portiragnes aren’t given any context, so the viewer doesn’t immediately know my connection to the people. Through the editing I try to evoke that intimacy.

With those glimpses we begin to see a life. What initially made you to pick up a camera?
My filmmaking came out of my failed diary writing. I was writing all throughout high school, and filming as well—documenting my everyday life, just observing my surroundings. Both the writing and the filming were without catharsis. They were documentation without reflection and felt flat and unimportant. The editing is the writing, the reflection, and where the footage is given purpose.

Silence and stillness are important aspects of your work. What are you trying to say in using both?
The film North South is silent because there was nothing to be evoked through sound. It’s simply a voyage across America and back, and the shifts in the imagery are where the tension lies. Portiragnes uses an aggressive soundscape, because I wanted to emphasize the emotional subtext of the images, which is more anxious at times. Another reason North South is silent is so I can talk through it. My former professor, Peter Hutton, shows his breath-taking silent films to his class and gives a verbal context to his imagery, which makes the experience intimate and personal. These explanations are sure to change with every screening, but that’s a part of it.

There’s a really beautiful moment in the short film Portiragnes, where you’re filming a close up of a young man hanging by the beach, and you slowly pan down and we see that he’s picking at a scab on his knee. Are these moments directed or do you let them come naturally?
I generally let things happen, but I will sometimes ask people to repeat actions. It really depends on the situation. In the case of Turner scratching his knee–Turner the young man and my best friend since birth–I saw him doing it, and asked him to keep scratching. Another scene in the film, where people are jumping off cliffs, they wanted me to film them doing back flips and the feeling was mutual. I shot Portiragnes in the summer and winter, and when I went back in the winter I had this idea of creating a narrative of a boy with his dog, and interweaving it with more lyrical shots I had from the summer, so there are some scenes that are loosely scripted.

What’s the role of the travelogue filmmaker in a generation that is constantly moving onto new things?
I don’t know what the role is, but I know that the technology available for filmmakers today lends itself to the ADD generation. The DSLRs are great cameras, don’t get me wrong, but I fear people rely on the technology to make the image for them. They’ve created the aesthetic of our generation: the shaky shallow focus handheld camera, and it’s purely because of those 35mm lenses. This type of instant gratification–the high resolution and easy workflow–fits in with our generation’s approach to art making. I think we want things to come quick and be easy, but I guess I can’t speak for everyone. I’m guilty of it too, don’t get me wrong. My next project will be much longer, and I’m going to continue working in the 16mm format until they discontinue it. Knowing every shot is costing you moolah makes you slow down and really consider what you’re doing, and that’s been crucial for me.

What can you tell us about the duck hunting documentary you’re working on?
My very good friend slash film colleague, Dave McNeeley, grew up duck hunting so the subject is close to home for him, and he approached me about making a documentary about duck hunters. I was immediately interested in the idea because I wanted to, and still want to, shift my focus from the immediately personal to more anthropological subjects. A documentary where the camera’s perspective is felt, but not directly attached. The film follows the duck hunters at first, then leaves them to focus on the space. There are similar tensions in hunting as there are in filmmaking: the waiting, watching, listening, we approached it with an awareness to the medium, but also with a sincere appreciation for the ritual, and the marsh.

Portiragnes from Max Weinman on Vimeo.

But there were other standout moments throughout the night as well. The dashing and long-overdue Christopher Plummer became, as predicted, the oldest actor to win an Oscar for his work in Beginners, receiving it with a dignified and witty speech. Octavia Spencer, on the other hand, was more overcome by emotion when she picked up her Best Supporting Actress Oscar for The Help. This was a little disappointing for someone who was so clearly the favorite to win and who’d been working the awards circuit for months now. Best Original Song winner Bret McKenzie also gave a nice speech for “Muppet or Man” from The Muppets (although purportedly, backstage he admitted the song didn’t hold up to “The Rainbow Connection”).

Though I’m not a big fan of either stars, Ben Stiller and Emma Stone nailed a bit about her first time as an Oscar presenter; conversely, Robert Downey, Jr., and Gwyneth Paltrow fumbled their faux- verité  banter. Presenters Jennifer Lopez, who seemed to have a wardrobe malfunction near her left areola, and Angelina Jolie, distracting from the honor of the screenplay awards she presented with a smug, calculated slut pose, reminded us all why if they had to merely rely on acting prowess, they’d never make headlines or get invited to award shows. In other news, Natalie Portman continues to look uncomfortable every time she speaks on a stage.

Of course, there’s been the inevitable backlash to the telecast, by those who didn’t like the nominees and thought the show was long and boring. Here’s the thing: don’t watch. The Oscars are an international event, but they are, still, by definition, a ceremony. Only so many switches can be fixed. Several critics I admire said the Academy failed this year because in honoring so many nostalgic movies, it failed to honor their mission of looking forward for the industry. I actually don’t think that’s the mission.

The Oscars exist as a marketing tool to call attention to movies; fueling interest in buying tickets and DVDs for nominated films and creating a runoff effect even for those that are not. And it serves a historic preservation purpose, commemorating terrific work so that it will be remembered later on. I’d never have discovered performers like Ronald Colman or Anna Magnani or movies like The Awful Truth or A Touch of Class if they hadn’t won Oscars. Don’t blame the Academy if you don’t like the movies being honored; that’s the fault of those who make the movies (thinking of you as I write this, everyone helping turn Battleship into a summer release).

There are many, too, who hate on The Artist, and claim it’s nothing more than hollow sentiment. I disagree. As someone who has everything and loses it, Oscar-winner Jean Dujardin and Oscar-winning director Michael Hazanavicius have provided a soulful look at depression, which given our current emotional climate, is as relevant as anything else I’ve seen onscreen all year. I’ve familiar with several version of the DSM, and I can say that every nuance and gesture of Dujardin’s performance was indicative of the disease. That he was able to do so in a silent movie is all the more remarkable. It’s the difference between showing and telling – which is, of course, the primary purpose of art. The dance numbers were just a bonus for me.

And while it’s incongruous to say that Meryl Streep was the evening’s big upset, her win over presumed victor Viola Davis (even, one might presume, by Viola herself, poor dear) was a surprise in a talent-laden category. The Iron Lady may have been a missed opportunity to explore the controversial career of Margaret Thatcher, and we’ll never know what Meryl may have with the more complicated, unsympathetic years of that woman’s life. But La Streep’s work in the movie was indeed transcendent, building upon instead of relying on a perfectly calibrated accent and makeup to realize the inner and outer woman she portrayed. It’s a winning performance in every way.

In my humble opinion, the overall show was a success. Didn’t like Billy Crystal’s opening medley? Find his joke rhythms formulaic? These things aren’t stale; they’re tradition. The Oscar telecast is the equivalent of inviting the entire world population to a concert that only plays one kind of music. It simply won’t be for everybody. If it’s not your thing, just don’t attend.

Well done, Academy. Well done.

Indeed The City Winery appeared to be a corner store. Hardly a spot for a lavish dinner event, followed by an intimate affair with the Haitian great, Wyclef Jean… but then my eyes shifted. It would be incorrect to call City Winery the staple of wine inNew York City. Staples are small. They bend. Sometimes they don’t properly click into place. And for a moment, on the outside it deceives this impression, but then you take in the entire Tribeca block, and realize: holy shit, the whole thing is The City Winery.

Nope. Not the staple of NYC wine. The stapler.

The space was packed with the hip and well-suited, though the latter were sitting and the hip were standing. The large bar was packed with single bills laid on the counter top, beckoning for a little attention. We went to the back of the room and watched plates of pizza, with sizzling melted cheese and tart smelling basil pass beneath our noses. A roasted chicken that made me hate the suits. Those bastards. Getting to rest their capped teeth into the warm salty meat. To hell with them! But that wasn’t in the spirit of the event. Love baby. Peace. Drink the Wyclef Wine. Fact. Wyclef now has a wine in collaboration with City Winery, and it is as dark and lovely as the man himself… is that okay for me to say?

It is…

Right?

Soon after we arrived, the show kicked off. Clef looked fit in a velvet jacket and white slacks. Anyone who says no to white after labor day, hasn’t seen Wyclef Jean in white slacks. He started off with a short eulogy in memory of Whitney Houston. They had been recording together just before she passed, and he played a snippet of a song they had been working on. A re-working free style of her classic, “My Love Is Your Love.” It was more than a little eerie to hear her beautiful gospel voice. Still there. Clean and alive. My skin rippled to the coo, and my friend outstretched her arm, “Goosebumps.”

After the song, Clef worked a freestyle on stage, rapping about his place in the world. His meditations in that exact moment. In a word, “Pizza.” I’m simply reporting, don’t give me that look. It worked. And then the list started off.

“No Woman No Cry.”  I loved the Fugees. I grew up on them, and embraced all they had to offer. But hot damn, Mr. Jean can hold that ditty all on his lonesome. “Gone ‘Til November.” I slept in my brother’s room for the greater part of my childhood. After seeing Mars Attacks! I was pretty confident that little green aliens wanted to kill me. Still dealing with that. But at night my brother played this song on repeat as I fell asleep. I felt the same calm hearing it live. “Two Wrongs.” I had totally forgotten about this song.  “This is gonna get some people laid tonight,” he called out between lyric breaks. I turned to my friend. She shook her head. I turned to the big black man next to me. He shook his head too… though he obliged me a picture. Something’s just aren’t meant to be, but that song surely was. They say two wrongs don’t make a right. So if I’m wrong I ain’t trying to fight. I’m trying to have some dinner with some candlelight. Lay up in the bed and make love all night. “Sweetest Girl,” followed soon after, with a grand finale of “Carnivale,” featuring a performance by The New York Samba School.

City Winery and Wyclef will join up again March 31st. I highly recommend grabbin’ some tickets. All info can be found at http://citywinery.com/events/256832.

One word: Billy. As in Crystal, quite arguably the greatest host of any live event ever. No one knows better than Crystal how to put stressed-out nominees at ease while also entertaining a global audience of varying interests and movie knowledge. This is his ninth hosting gig. Will he dare do a Best Picture medley now that there are nine nominees instead of the five he’s used to? I can’t wait to find out.

Huge stars really will be there. Some of the biggest stars and greatest talents are all swimming together in this year’s nominee pool: Meryl Streep, Martin Scorsese, Glenn Close, Christopher Plummer, even Steven Spielberg will show up for War Horse. These are not just huge names; they are Hollywood incarnate. And all of them, to at least some degree, will have a vested interest in whose names rests in the envelopes. It’s like the Parthenon has been transplanted to LA, turning the Kodak Theater into Mount Olympus for a night.

The Oscars still create plenty of memorable moments. At least it does to the rabid film fan. The movies are about turning moments into lasting memories, and the Oscars have always informed that ongoing mission. Take your pick from its 83 year history, whether it’s a spontaneous moment like Cuba Gooding Jr.’s acceptance speech or Sophia Loren presenting Best Foreign Film to a chair-climbing Roberto Benigni, or a heartwarming one, such as Best Actress winner Louise Fletcher signing to her deaf parents. Or Heath Ledger’s family getting up to accept his posthumous Oscar. Or Singin’ in the Rain director Stanley Donen dancing with his honorary award. Or Hattie McDaniel’s gracious acceptance speech, knowing her win was about a great deal more than just her wonderful performance. Or Steven Spielberg finally getting his first Oscar in a year that saw him direct both the year’s best picture and the highest-grossing movie of all time. The list, for me, goes on and on – and I’m assuming will only get longer come Sunday night.

Hard work should always be rewarded. Hollywood’s output is a visible one, so it only makes sense that it honors itself in an equally visible way. Yes, the Academy Awards are long, and the speeches can be tedious and self-promoting. Don’t like that kind of bloated back-patting? Then maybe the awards aren’t for you. I don’t think anyone ever said it better than Streep herself, twenty-nine years ago, when she accepted her Sophie’s Choice Oscar: “I’m going to read a bunch of names now, because I know just two seconds ago, my mother and father went completely berserk, and I want to give some other mothers and fathers that opportunity.” Because I can’t fathom anything more awesome than being the loved one of someone getting their big moment in time. Take, for example, Viola Davis, who is quite likely to win on Sunday. She came from humble means, got into the right acting programs, paid her dues with training and excellent theater experience before climbing the rungs of the highHollywood ladder. Can you imagine being one of her parents come Oscar night? We won’t have to. We’ll get to see it for ourselves.

Why will you be glued to your TV this Sunday? Let us know @N_YPress

And you know what? It worked. Having until February instead of September gave me enough time and breathing room to catch up on the series’ entire first two seasons in time for the much-anticipated season premiere last week, and it was time well spent. I am now an unabashed fan of the show.

I’m not a total stranger to Cougar Town, in truth. I did watch the pilot in 2009, and found its premise – Courteney Cox plays a newly-divorced 40-year-old on the Gulf Coast of Florida getting to sow her long-gestating wild oats with younger men – limited, and its tone abrasive. I never watched again, though various TV articles kept me abreast of developments within (Cox’s character, Jules, eventually settled into a relationship with neighbor Grayson, played by Josh Hopkins, an actor long overdue for a breakout role) and outside the world of the show (Lawrence and fellow show helmer Kevin Biegel admitted that the show’s title was erroneous and, since they cannot change it, openly mock it at every opportunity).

But boy am I glad I caught up. Cougar Town has morphed from a Cox vehicle into an ensemble show, giving equal time to the septet of characters that include Jules; Grayson; Jules’ lovable doofus of an ex, Bobby (Brian Van Holt); her real estate colleague, Laurie (Busy Phillips); son Travis (the arch Dan Byrd, a major star in the making), neighbor and best friend Ellie (Christa Miller, replicating the acid tongue she used on husband Lawrence’s Scrubs) and Ellie’s hubby (Emmy-worthy MVP Ian Gomez). Meanwhile, the conceit of mature woman chasing after younger men has been demoted to the occasional bon mot delivered by Barb, a recurring character with an insatiable appetite played by the divine Carolyn Hennesy. This kind of sweeping change is not unprecedented – it took Frasier a full first season to find its footing.

It’s too easy to compare the de facto family formed by this group of friend and neighbors to Friends just because of Cox’s presence in both. In truth, Cougar Town inherits the DNA of such sitcoms as Barney Miller, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and Murphy Brown – and if the gals of 227 had sat on the stoop drinking gratuitous amounts of red wine, that would have provided the complete template. You see, Friends featured a gang during an early chapter of their lives before they went on to the next. They knew exciting changes were in store. Though they are pretty people with a ridiculously minimal amount of fat, wrinkles and body hair, the cul-de-sac crew on Cougar Town actually lead fairly sad lives with a limited worldview. Laurie grew up with a revolving door of stepparents who left her with little self-esteem. Grayson may have just proposed to Jules and own a swanky bar, but he longs to be a musician and father a child of his own. Travis is in college but only lives twenty minutes away and seems to come home every weekend, and over the course of two seasons, the only friend we ever saw was largely unresponsive roommate. Even Jules herself got pregnant and married Bobby at some point during college.

Cougar Town obviously doesn’t dwell on the heavy stuff, but it does manage to blend it into the show’s episodes with finesse, just as Scrubs did. These characters – wonderfully acted by all – could be losers, but together in each other’s company, they become winners. Visiting Cougar Town reminds me of Celeste Talbert, the Sally Field character in Soap Dish who would run to see unsuspecting fans at the Paramus mall when in need of a pick-me-up. Cougar Town has the same effect on me. Watching the show just makes me happy, and if ABC hadn’t made the show a mid-season replacement, I’m not sure I would have discovered that.

So Biegel, Lawrence and the gang can call the show whatever they want. I’m indifferent to the title myself. I simply think of it as my Paramus.