V to the Tenth
Somehow I did not learn about V to the Tenth until earlier this week. Either the local press was late in covering the upcoming event or I was just oblivious. Either way, around mid-week, I started seeing notices of the night pop up, and I knew that I needed to go. My girlfriend and I left boyfriend, husband, children, pets, homework, and housework behind and fled for the big city about 5:30.
Background: My sister and I went to see The Vagina Monologues in New Orleans years ago -- maybe 1999 or 2000? -- not sure, and I went to see it a few years ago here. Both time were great experiences, and when I had to choose a "tough cookie" on whom to do a major project for a class a few years ago, I chose Eve Ensler. So I'm pretty familiar with the show and even own it on audio CD. It was clear that I needed to be present at this event, even if it meant sitting five rows from the very tippy top of the Arena (which we did). We sat back with our shared hurricane daiquiri and chicken sandwiches and fries and prepared to relax and enjoy the show.
Let me get the negatives out of the way first: I know I let this sort of thing get to me too much, and I feel almost disloyal saying this about a fellow woman while at a pro-woman event of this magnitude, but there was a row of twenty-something women dressed to the nines as if going out for a night with Carrie, Samantha, Amanda, and Charlotte who were very loud when they came in, very loud as they crossed over us multiple times, very loud as some of them moved to the row behind us, and just ... loud. I really hoped they would settle down and settle in once the show started -- but they didn't. One woman in particular who was sitting behind us decided that she needed to take the thoughts in her head and speak them aloud in reaction to the show. Not quietly, not under her breath, not whispered carefully into the ear of her friend next to her -- but out loud. At full volume. When Doris Roberts (the grandma on Everybody Loves Raymond) and Didi Conn (YES, FRENCHIE) were doing the "down there" monologue and said something about things being noisy "down there," this woman said, "Are they talking about ____-ing?" (Rhymes with leafing.) When they said something about the smell "down there," she said, "Mine smells like oranges!" After each of these comments, I would turn around and shoot her a death glare, but it had no effect. When Christine Lahti (CHRISTINE LAHTI!) delivered the "hair" monologue, the woman shared with us that hers is shaved. When Kerri Washington performed the monologue about Bob, the man who likes to look, when Washington was describing how Bob liked to sit in the shade in the summer and wore beige clothes, the woman's friend turned around to her and said, "Bob is SUSPECT," I don't even know what that means. Then when Washington was describing how Bob looked at it for an hour, my favorite person behind me said, "He'd better be doing something else while he's down there for so long!" Death glare after death glare -- nothing. Then the amazing Charmaine Neville came on and gave a little personal speech before performing "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?" and wondered aloud what happened to the people in her neighborhood. She said that she wondered what happened to the German woman who would come sit on her front porch and drink coffee with her so they could "talk about people." About the boy who would ride by every day and tease her dog. About the Vietnamese family who ran the corner grocery store. My friend behind me said loudly and indignantly, "Um -- stereotyping??" And Charmaine wondered what happened to the Chinese family who ran her dry cleaners. "I am getting offended!" Said the genius behind me who clearly did not stop and think that these were actually real families in New Orleans? Hello? Then she continued, "What's next? Is she going to ask what happened to Apu?" That's when I turned to my friend and said, "Get up! We're moving." So she grabbed her purse and we hustled to some empty seats in the adjacent section. And from then on, the evening was smooth sailing of normal people who don't do anything in the audience but laugh and cry and applaud in the right places.
Highlights: Rosario Dawson & and an Eastern European actress performing the one about the young woman and violence in her village, who explained that the woman who told Ensler that story and on whom the monologue is based was in the audience. Seeing Amber Tamblyn come onstage, not knowing she would be there, and thinking in my head, "OMG Joan Girardi, OMG Joan Girardi, OMG, OMG." Hearing the insane reaction of the audience to the entrance of Jennifer Beals, who, along with Alex Hedison, Ilene Chaiken, and Daniela Sea (The L Word), was hilarious in the monologue about moaning. (Jennifer Beals is really as beautiful in real life as she is as Bette Porter, if that is humanly possible.) It was neat to see Jennifer Hudson, who looked great. She performed a monologue about loving being a girl. And I feel like she had the potential to BE great, but she held her cards so closely up to her nose that I wondered if she had not practiced at all? It was kind of weird. The other actresses had cards, but they only glanced at them sometimes and did not read straight off of them. Oh Jennifer Hudson. I know you have it in you! And Jane Fonda, the amazing Jane Fonda, who was the only person (I think) besides Ensler in the opening "I am worried about vaginas" monologue who went off-book. Not a card in her hand had Jane Fonda for "I Was There in the Room," probably my favorite of all of the classic vagina monologues. In case you don't know, this monologue was written about Eve Ensler being present in the room when the wife of her stepson, Dylan McDermott, gave birth. More on him later!
Now it is time to talk about Liz Mikel, otherwise known as Smash's mom on Friday Night Lights. I have been known to say when watching that show, "This episode could use some more Mama Smash." Which any episode of any show could, frankly. She is always wonderful on the show -- strong and tender and fierce all at the same time. I saw her walking in with the little parade of stars and I got very excited. She performed the "my vagina is angry" monologue, and it was funny and fantastic. I was so proud of Mama Smash and thought she was such a great addition to the night.
Meanwhile, I'd read that Oprah was going to be there to perform a new monologue that Ensler wrote in honor of women affected by Katrina. And sure, I was excited to see Oprah. Oprah is an event unto herself, you know? So when Liz Mikel came back to the stage late in the evening following an amazing gospel choir (Lois DeJean and the Voices of New Orleans) and said this was a new monologue in honor of a New Orleans woman named Patricia Henry, I wondered, "Hm. Isn't this the one Oprah was going to do?" But the thought left my head when Liz Mikel started performing this monologue. She had cards, sure, but she barely glanced at them. She embodied the spirit of this woman with her full mind, body, soul, and spirit. She was soft in the right places, mighty in the right places, angry in the right places, and so forth. It was called "Hey, Miss Pat!" and she told of the people who would come by and say that and ask her what she was cooking that day. And she talked about all of these people who were lost in or damaged by the storm. And I don't really know what to say other than when Ensler is good, she is great, and that Liz Mikel was unbelievable. By the time she was done, she was crying, and Ensler ran to the stage and embraced her, and then Ensler, whilst basically sobbing, called the real Patricia Henry to the stage, so she was escorted up there, and she was crying, and she and Liz Mikel held each other and rocked back and forth and wept, and Liz Mikel said, "God bless you, God bless you," and we were all on our feet and tears were streaming down thousands of faces, and it was just one of those transcendent moments in theater and in life.
A few minutes later, Eve Ensler, still totally overjoyed and overcome by Mikel's performance and the whole beautiful scene, said, "I guess you've figured out that Oprah couldn't here tonight," and she explained that Oprah was sick, and continued, "But I think we can all agree that seeing Liz Mikel was such a gift," and said something about how some things happen for a reason and we just have to let ourselves be carried by however the wind blows. And I mean, it was clear to her and to everyone, I would think, that there is no way that Oprah's performance would have been nearly as extraordinary as Liz Mikel's and that we were blessed to have experienced it. Right? Not long after, we decided to start making our way down to the car as Ensler was wrapping things up, and some people were clearly not as blissed out and zen about the whole thing as I was, because people were PISSSED about Oprah and about not being told until the very end. Which my sister assures me was a very reasonable reaction on their part, and maybe I am just so blindly in love with Mama Smash that I could not be fazed by Oprah's absence. Anyway.
And now for our up close and personal celebrity spotting of the night! As we neared the exit doors, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Dylan McDermott in jeans, a black leather jacket, and black Chuck Taylor sneakers hurriedly making his way to the door beside ours, and I crammed my mouth into my friend's ear and said, "Look to your right, RIGHT NOW," and she did, and her eyes flew wide open and we exited beside him as he totally speed-walked to wherever he was going, I guess to avoid being recognized (sort of funny considering how much, much bigger stars were there, but I guess they were not Among The Common People like he was for some reason), and he was very handsome if a little shorter than I imagined, and I thought for a fleeting moment about how I like him best as Leo Fish in Home for the Holidays. And he was holding the hand of a young girl with long hair whom I suspect was the girl whose birth inspired "I Was There in the Room," and I wondered how it must feel for her to hear something like that being performed by Jane Fonda, to hear about herself -- "first the little head, then the gray flopping arm, then the fast swimming body, swimming quickly into our weeping arms" -- and it was a nice, sort of mind-blowing, full-circle way to end the evening.
It was wonderful, and it was wonderful to spend an evening with my friend, and it was wonderful to be there, and I'm so very, very glad we went.
Background: My sister and I went to see The Vagina Monologues in New Orleans years ago -- maybe 1999 or 2000? -- not sure, and I went to see it a few years ago here. Both time were great experiences, and when I had to choose a "tough cookie" on whom to do a major project for a class a few years ago, I chose Eve Ensler. So I'm pretty familiar with the show and even own it on audio CD. It was clear that I needed to be present at this event, even if it meant sitting five rows from the very tippy top of the Arena (which we did). We sat back with our shared hurricane daiquiri and chicken sandwiches and fries and prepared to relax and enjoy the show.
Let me get the negatives out of the way first: I know I let this sort of thing get to me too much, and I feel almost disloyal saying this about a fellow woman while at a pro-woman event of this magnitude, but there was a row of twenty-something women dressed to the nines as if going out for a night with Carrie, Samantha, Amanda, and Charlotte who were very loud when they came in, very loud as they crossed over us multiple times, very loud as some of them moved to the row behind us, and just ... loud. I really hoped they would settle down and settle in once the show started -- but they didn't. One woman in particular who was sitting behind us decided that she needed to take the thoughts in her head and speak them aloud in reaction to the show. Not quietly, not under her breath, not whispered carefully into the ear of her friend next to her -- but out loud. At full volume. When Doris Roberts (the grandma on Everybody Loves Raymond) and Didi Conn (YES, FRENCHIE) were doing the "down there" monologue and said something about things being noisy "down there," this woman said, "Are they talking about ____-ing?" (Rhymes with leafing.) When they said something about the smell "down there," she said, "Mine smells like oranges!" After each of these comments, I would turn around and shoot her a death glare, but it had no effect. When Christine Lahti (CHRISTINE LAHTI!) delivered the "hair" monologue, the woman shared with us that hers is shaved. When Kerri Washington performed the monologue about Bob, the man who likes to look, when Washington was describing how Bob liked to sit in the shade in the summer and wore beige clothes, the woman's friend turned around to her and said, "Bob is SUSPECT," I don't even know what that means. Then when Washington was describing how Bob looked at it for an hour, my favorite person behind me said, "He'd better be doing something else while he's down there for so long!" Death glare after death glare -- nothing. Then the amazing Charmaine Neville came on and gave a little personal speech before performing "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?" and wondered aloud what happened to the people in her neighborhood. She said that she wondered what happened to the German woman who would come sit on her front porch and drink coffee with her so they could "talk about people." About the boy who would ride by every day and tease her dog. About the Vietnamese family who ran the corner grocery store. My friend behind me said loudly and indignantly, "Um -- stereotyping??" And Charmaine wondered what happened to the Chinese family who ran her dry cleaners. "I am getting offended!" Said the genius behind me who clearly did not stop and think that these were actually real families in New Orleans? Hello? Then she continued, "What's next? Is she going to ask what happened to Apu?" That's when I turned to my friend and said, "Get up! We're moving." So she grabbed her purse and we hustled to some empty seats in the adjacent section. And from then on, the evening was smooth sailing of normal people who don't do anything in the audience but laugh and cry and applaud in the right places.
Highlights: Rosario Dawson & and an Eastern European actress performing the one about the young woman and violence in her village, who explained that the woman who told Ensler that story and on whom the monologue is based was in the audience. Seeing Amber Tamblyn come onstage, not knowing she would be there, and thinking in my head, "OMG Joan Girardi, OMG Joan Girardi, OMG, OMG." Hearing the insane reaction of the audience to the entrance of Jennifer Beals, who, along with Alex Hedison, Ilene Chaiken, and Daniela Sea (The L Word), was hilarious in the monologue about moaning. (Jennifer Beals is really as beautiful in real life as she is as Bette Porter, if that is humanly possible.) It was neat to see Jennifer Hudson, who looked great. She performed a monologue about loving being a girl. And I feel like she had the potential to BE great, but she held her cards so closely up to her nose that I wondered if she had not practiced at all? It was kind of weird. The other actresses had cards, but they only glanced at them sometimes and did not read straight off of them. Oh Jennifer Hudson. I know you have it in you! And Jane Fonda, the amazing Jane Fonda, who was the only person (I think) besides Ensler in the opening "I am worried about vaginas" monologue who went off-book. Not a card in her hand had Jane Fonda for "I Was There in the Room," probably my favorite of all of the classic vagina monologues. In case you don't know, this monologue was written about Eve Ensler being present in the room when the wife of her stepson, Dylan McDermott, gave birth. More on him later!
Now it is time to talk about Liz Mikel, otherwise known as Smash's mom on Friday Night Lights. I have been known to say when watching that show, "This episode could use some more Mama Smash." Which any episode of any show could, frankly. She is always wonderful on the show -- strong and tender and fierce all at the same time. I saw her walking in with the little parade of stars and I got very excited. She performed the "my vagina is angry" monologue, and it was funny and fantastic. I was so proud of Mama Smash and thought she was such a great addition to the night.
Meanwhile, I'd read that Oprah was going to be there to perform a new monologue that Ensler wrote in honor of women affected by Katrina. And sure, I was excited to see Oprah. Oprah is an event unto herself, you know? So when Liz Mikel came back to the stage late in the evening following an amazing gospel choir (Lois DeJean and the Voices of New Orleans) and said this was a new monologue in honor of a New Orleans woman named Patricia Henry, I wondered, "Hm. Isn't this the one Oprah was going to do?" But the thought left my head when Liz Mikel started performing this monologue. She had cards, sure, but she barely glanced at them. She embodied the spirit of this woman with her full mind, body, soul, and spirit. She was soft in the right places, mighty in the right places, angry in the right places, and so forth. It was called "Hey, Miss Pat!" and she told of the people who would come by and say that and ask her what she was cooking that day. And she talked about all of these people who were lost in or damaged by the storm. And I don't really know what to say other than when Ensler is good, she is great, and that Liz Mikel was unbelievable. By the time she was done, she was crying, and Ensler ran to the stage and embraced her, and then Ensler, whilst basically sobbing, called the real Patricia Henry to the stage, so she was escorted up there, and she was crying, and she and Liz Mikel held each other and rocked back and forth and wept, and Liz Mikel said, "God bless you, God bless you," and we were all on our feet and tears were streaming down thousands of faces, and it was just one of those transcendent moments in theater and in life.
A few minutes later, Eve Ensler, still totally overjoyed and overcome by Mikel's performance and the whole beautiful scene, said, "I guess you've figured out that Oprah couldn't here tonight," and she explained that Oprah was sick, and continued, "But I think we can all agree that seeing Liz Mikel was such a gift," and said something about how some things happen for a reason and we just have to let ourselves be carried by however the wind blows. And I mean, it was clear to her and to everyone, I would think, that there is no way that Oprah's performance would have been nearly as extraordinary as Liz Mikel's and that we were blessed to have experienced it. Right? Not long after, we decided to start making our way down to the car as Ensler was wrapping things up, and some people were clearly not as blissed out and zen about the whole thing as I was, because people were PISSSED about Oprah and about not being told until the very end. Which my sister assures me was a very reasonable reaction on their part, and maybe I am just so blindly in love with Mama Smash that I could not be fazed by Oprah's absence. Anyway.
And now for our up close and personal celebrity spotting of the night! As we neared the exit doors, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Dylan McDermott in jeans, a black leather jacket, and black Chuck Taylor sneakers hurriedly making his way to the door beside ours, and I crammed my mouth into my friend's ear and said, "Look to your right, RIGHT NOW," and she did, and her eyes flew wide open and we exited beside him as he totally speed-walked to wherever he was going, I guess to avoid being recognized (sort of funny considering how much, much bigger stars were there, but I guess they were not Among The Common People like he was for some reason), and he was very handsome if a little shorter than I imagined, and I thought for a fleeting moment about how I like him best as Leo Fish in Home for the Holidays. And he was holding the hand of a young girl with long hair whom I suspect was the girl whose birth inspired "I Was There in the Room," and I wondered how it must feel for her to hear something like that being performed by Jane Fonda, to hear about herself -- "first the little head, then the gray flopping arm, then the fast swimming body, swimming quickly into our weeping arms" -- and it was a nice, sort of mind-blowing, full-circle way to end the evening.
It was wonderful, and it was wonderful to spend an evening with my friend, and it was wonderful to be there, and I'm so very, very glad we went.
posted by eliza @ 8:47 AM
10 Comments:
What an awesome entry. I, too, LOVE Liz Mikel, though I've only seen her as Mama Smash. I'd take her over Oprah any day!
Leaf-ing? What rhymes with leafing?
Your review was great. I was there and it was an amazing night. Did you leave early and miss Faith Hill at the end? She was faulous as was the version of Respect she sang with Jennifer Husdon.
eileen--agreed. anonymous #1 -- I can't help you. I cannot type the word, I have hangups! anonymous #2 -- I am sad to have missed Faith Hill, as I really like her, but my friend and I beat it out of there a little early like the old ladies we are. I'm glad you had an amazing night, too!
I was disappointed Oprah was not there, but I agree with you she could NEVER have reached the emotional level of Ms. Mikel. She was wonderful! I thought I was getting over my grief from Katrina, but the night proved to me I still have much more healing to go.
thank you so much for sharing - it sounds totally amazing!
Thanks for this amazing write up! I would have been tempted to give that chick a piece of my mind. I too adore Ms. Mikel and would have loved to have seen her performance.
Can anyone tell me what Faith Hill sang?
thank you so so much for writing this review, especially picking out some of my faves to highlight: rosario, kerry, jhud and jennifer beals. this is one event i wish i could've just picked up and flown halfway across the country to go to.
Amanda,
Faith Hill sang "There Will Come a Day". It was followed by "Respect" with Jennifer Hudson and Charmaine Neville.
Great summary of a great night. Liz Mikel was definitely the star of the night...hilarious in "The Angry Vagina" and heartbreaking in the Katrina piece. I guess I'll start watching Friday Night Lights.
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