Pass the Popcorn: Into the Woods

It was 1986; I had moved back-back to Boston (after moving back to New York after college). I had no money. I was living in a one-room apartment on Beacon Hill and pretty much subsisting on ramen noodles and Kraft macaroni and cheese. (I told you I had no money.) Nevertheless, I loved my new job, my new neighborhood, the new friends I was making. I couldn't afford to go the theatre much, but I figured that would all change once my career took off. (Aren't we wonderfully confident at 24?) Meanwhile, I had a VCR and a 99-cent video store around the corner.

My family back in New York went to the theatre often and kept me abreast of the latest shows on Broadway (and took me to them whenever I visited). One day, I received a postcard from my mother. It was the poster art for a new Stephen Sondheim show, Into the Woods. They had passed them out to the musical's patrons hoping they would spread the word. (Remember, we were decades away from social media and viral marketing.) My mother's handwritten message was succinct:

Don't waste your money.

Snap, Mom!

Several years later, I was doing a bit better financially. I was able to build a CD collection of favorite musicals (as well as buy legitimate food). First, I replaced all my scratched up record albums. Then, I became fascinated with Sondheim and bought Company, A Little Night Music, Sweeney Todd, Passion, Assassins, and Sunday in the Park with George. His work lacked the lovely melodies of Rodgers and Hammerstein, but I found his lyrics fascinating. Despite my mother's earlier warning, I invested in a copy of Into the Woods.

I confess, I loved it.

Besides the allure of the whole fractured fairytale thing, there were serious themes that warranted listening and listening again to appreciate. The idea of nice vs. good. Our need for happy ever afters and our bewilderment when we get what we want and then realize that what we got isn't what we want anymore.

Despite multiple tours and revivals, I didn't get a chance to see a live production of Into the Woods until last winter. I took my daughter and two friends to see a small but really excellent version of it by one of Boston's regional theatre companies. We all loved it, and looked forward to the by-then announced movie version. Yesterday, with homework (mostly) done, my daughter and I went to see it at our town's tiny cinema. I brought bottled water and M&Ms and we bought two bags of popcorn.

We both loved it. We agreed that Emily Blunt, Anna Kendrick and James Corden were all fantastic. With Daniel Huttlestone and Lilla Crawford, the (let's face it, difficult) casting of the "dim-witted boy and hungry little girl" was ideal. (Jack and Riding Hood can be so obnoxious.) I have a thing for wolf Johnny Depp, always have. And we agreed that the two princes, Chris Pine and Billy Magnussen, were dreamy and their duet "Agony" was a highlight of the movie.

But, the character I gravitated to most was the Witch.

It's not because Meryl Streep is a goddess brought to Earth and everything she touches turns to gold. (She is and it does, but that's not why.) It's not because I'm feeling old and ugly and more than a little wicked. (I am and I am and I am, but that's not why either.) It is, of course, because of all the characters, the Witch is the one who voiced how I feel as the mother of a teen.

When Rapunzel wants to leave her ivory tower, the Witch laments "Children can only grow / From something you love / To something you lose ..."  

As the movie finished — without many happy endings but with some hope for the future — La Streep sings Sondheim's beautiful "Children Will Listen" over the credits.


Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
To learn what to be
Careful before you say "Listen to me"
Children will listen

By all accounts, including his own, Sondheim had a fairly miserable youth. Openly gay today, he never had any children. But he definitely understands how it feels to lose your little one to the big bad world (or — we can't help but hope —  to a big old happy ending).

How do you say to a child who's in flight

"Don't slip away and I won't hold so tight"

I'm working on that one right now.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Affluenza and Other Epidemics

Have you heard the term "affluenza?"

It's a clever mash-up of affluence and influenza, but it isn't exactly new. In 2005, Clive Hamilton and Richard Denniss published Affluenza: When Too Much Is Never Enough. The book explains that people who "aspire to the lifestyles of the rich and famous at the cost of family, friends and personal fulfilment" create for themselves stress, depression and even obesity. Two years later, Oliver James, a British psychologist, published Affluenza: How To Be Successful and Stay Sane. He talks about "selfish captalism" or "placing a high value on money, possessions, appearances (physical and social) and fame." He also sees affluenza as an important factor in the rise of mental illness. 

Last month, affluenza was used as a legal defense in a Texas case involving a drunk teenage driver. 

Young Ethan Couch was caught stealing beer on a store surveillance camera before taking seven friends for a ride in his father's truck. He was speeding with a blood alcohol level of three times the legal limit (and traces of valium in his system too). He killed four pedestrians and injured another eleven.

Open and shut case, right? Wrong.

One word: affluenza.

You see, the young man had money. The young man had clever lawyers. And, the young man, according to those clever lawyers, had never learned right from wrong because he was brought up in such a privileged family and never taught to take responsibility for his actions. Rather than incarcerate this 'poor little rich boy,' he was sentenced to ten years probation and one year in a program for troubled teenagers.

Unbelievable, right? Just wait. It gets more so.

Cited as evidence were incidents from earlier in Couch's life. He started driving, illegally, at thirteen. At fifteen, the police found him with a naked, unconscious girl in his car. Rather than look at these past events as an indictment on his character or behavior (bad seed, anyone?), they were held up as part of the defense. Since he wasn't punished for those earlier transgressions, he shouldn't be this time either.

Does this kid have issues? Maybe. Is that mighty cold comfort to the families of any of his victims? Hell, yes. And if the judge, in all his wisdom, honestly, truly (madly, deeply) believed that Couch wasn't at fault because his parents didn't do their job, shouldn't they be held responsible? As in legally?

The whole story is stunning.

Affluenza is about the Twinkiest of "Twinkie defenses" I've ever heard. It's appalling really. And, it made me wonder where we draw the line. My own teen daughter does know the difference between right and wrong, and I believe (I know) she would never do anything as stupid, as destructive or deadly as this stupid, destructive, deadly boy. But, like most upper middle-class parents, I've tried to make things smooth for her.

I wonder sometimes just how far is too far.

What about those harmless white lies we tell on their behalf? Like when we send a note to a teacher excusing an absence (or the absence of completed homework).

And how about cheating? I know many (many) well-meaning moms who have edited their children's essays well past the point of merely proofreading. Not just schoolwork either, but college application essays.

Or when we drive over the limit with our teen in the car, aren't we showing them that it's ok to speed? And even more important maybe, aren't we telling them that it's ok to break the law?

How about when they see us, y'know, "fudge the numbers" on our income tax? Or drink or get high? What about calling in sick when we're ... well ... not?

We've all heard (and probably said) "Do as I say, not as I do." But, who are we fooling? Not our teens. Do we really expect our children to live by rules we aren't following? Wake up.

Stephen Sondheim wrote brilliant lyrics about this for his show Into The Woods. The song is called "Children Will Listen."

Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
To learn what to be
Careful before you say "Listen to me"
Children will listen

Any children listening to the judicial system of the state of Texas last month learned an invaluable lesson.

Money walks.


If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.