Pitch Perfect, Not So Much

i have wanted to watch the movie Pitch Perfect for years now. the concept and theme are right up my alley, and who doesn’t love an underdog story? 9 years since its release, i finally watched it.

one of the reasons i wanted to watch it was because of the actress Rebel Wilson. she’s a fat actress and we rarely see fat actresses on screen.

about 15 minutes into the movie, as the fictional a capella group, The Barden Bellas, is in the process of assembling its team for the year, it became clear what the creative/executive team behind the movie not only thought of fat people, but what they thought of Asians and Blacks. to be more precise, what they thought of Asian women, Black women, and fat women.

to the creative/executive team, it was funny to have a character who wants to sing, but is made to be so quiet that she is on the verge of being silent. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that this character is Asian. Asians are stereotypically hard-working and obedient; the women stereotypically submissive and not courageous. why give an Asian woman an actual voice and let her not only speak normally, but also sing in a normal tone? i winced every time the actress was on screen having to speak (and sing!) barely above a whisper. the most horrific scene is that the creative/executive team found it funny to have this character land in a pool of vomit and then make vomit(“snow”)-angels. i mean, how much more degrading could you make a near-silenced character be? on top of that, the only other Asian character was Becca’s roommate who, like the Barden Bella teammate, was nearly-silenced. she spoke very little and had a consistent scour on her face. She was also consistently annoyed at her brooding roommate, Becca, (played by Anna Kendrick) who would try to talk to her, but was always stonewalled. again, it’s apparently funny to not let Asian characters, especially Asian women, have a voice.

also, to the creative/executive team, it was funny to have a testosterone-driven lesbian character. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that this character was Black. the creative/executive team gets to feel good about themselves - “Hey, look! We’re woke! We have an LGBQTI character!” - and - “Hey, look! We have a Black person in our cast!” but…when you read in between these token lines, all you have is a stereotype that a Black woman cannot be feminine because that threatens the fragility of the white members of the a capella team. to make the Black character more masculine, she poses no competitive threat to the other women whether it’s in singing or in romance. in addition, the creative/executive team never has this character explicitly define their sexuality leaving the issue in limbo and, if the character really *is* a lesbian, they keep her silenced. why? to be clear, her sexuality makes no difference with whether the team can do a good job singing, but if you’re going to jump into the “inclusivity” pool, don’t half-ass it. LGBQTI people are just that first: people. not jokes or mysteries.

lastly, and to the character closest to my heart: Fat Amy played by Rebel Wilson. i mean, the name itself is an eye roll. she explains this name to a shocked Aubrey (played by Anna Camp), by saying she’d rather say “Fat Amy” up front than have “bitches” call her that behind her back. by explaining it away like that, the creative/executive team takes themselves off the hook for perpetuating stereotypes about fat people. the character literally becomes a label while everyone else is allowed to use a simple name. why is the fat person separated simply because she’s fat? Rebel has a great voice. and, if not Rebel, whoever were to take the role would have had to have a great voice because that’s what the movie called for and, so, why is that not enough?

and, as if the word “Fat” attached to the character’s name isn’t bad enough, the character, like most fat characters in movies, is the comic relief by perpetuating the most stupid stereotypes ever. there’s a bit where cardio is discussed and Fat Amy is the only one who doesn’t want to do it. when they all have to run around, Fat Amy is caught laying down joking that she’s running “horizontally.” it’s so easy to peg a fat person as not wanting to exercise and, while there are those who don’t like it, i have a secret to tell you: i have known thin people throughout my life who don’t like to exercise either, but weirdly, that’s not so funny and no one bats an eyelash. is that shocking to you? keep reading cause i have another secret to divulge: i was fat growing up and i used to play volleyball in elementary school, in high school, and college. and i’m fat now and i exercise whenever my schedule permits. has your head exploded? i hope so. 

fat. people. exercise. 

to make them the butt of the joke that they don’t want to exercise, or don’t like to exercise, perpetuates this myth. how about writers use their brain and come up with actual jokes for someone like Rebel Wilson to tell? ones that don’t involve in perpetuating *myths* especially if they want to see themselves on the silver screen.

one last mega-eye roll about this movie has to do with the fact that the creative/executive team decided it’d be funny to have Fat Amy make “jokes” (if you can call them that) at the expense of Jews. these “jokes” aren’t funny and, in my humble opinion, are examples of more lazy writing. there’s a scene towards the beginning of the movie where Fat Amy approaches a table at the college Activities Fair and she starts making Jewish jokes. the table seemed to be a club for DJs, so i wasn’t sure why Jewish “jokes” seemed appropriate at this time, but what she said was offensive and made no contribution to the story in any way. there were so many other one-liners that Fat Amy could’ve been given. a few scenes later, she tells Aubrey that she’s giving her hair style a Jewish name. her hair style was simply a high ponytail with strands going down the side of her face. why was it necessary to compare her hair to a Hasidic Jew? i don’t get the “joke,” but because she’s a fat character, she’s given these bad “jokes” which only paint fat people in an even worse picture: “Fat people aren’t funny. They’re pathetic.” as a fat person, i’m no longer hurt by these stereotypes. i’m pissed.

however, despite all these blatant wtf’s, i still love the concept of the movie. i do feel, though, that it lost such a great opportunity to make great headway into bringing in a diverse group of people and showcasing their talents. music unifies and the movie’s arrangements and performances were top-notch (the scene where all the a capella groups have a riff-off is one of my favorite musical scenes ever), but the creative/executive team chose to insert stereotypes that taint the movie for me. i can’t unsee these choices, nor can i unsee these choices continuously being made in hollywood which begs the question, when is hollywood going to actually let people showcase their talents instead of perpetuating myths? perhaps the Pitch Perfect TV series on Peacock will get it right, but i'm not holding my breath.

age is but a number in time

 shhh….

can you hear it?

tic-toc. tic-toc. tic-toc.

it’s rhythmic. 

up. 

down. 

up. 

down.

something i discovered about myself a while ago is that i am fixated with time. this ranges from near-manic obsession with the minutes of the day melting away to hyper-focusing on the passage of time, or the passING of time. is it any wonder i studied history? shockingly, though, i don’t really focus on the future in terms of what i’ll be, or even, will i be. “age” has always been an “other” to me. i can understand “age” in relation to the past, but i have trouble applying an understanding of it to the future (my future).

as a child, i thought that when i became an adult, i would have all the answers. i turned 18 and still had questions. then 21, 25, 30 and still had questions. when my mom passed away in 2016, she left behind a list of plans she hoped to one day complete. realizing that we will die never doing all we wanted to do saddened me to no end. i questioned, what was the point then? it still saddens me when i think about it, but i’m not as nihilistic about it anymore. despite all of this, i guess i always assumed that by retirement age and beyond, i would have figured out, at least, some things. right? Right?

recently, i watched the movie Poms starring Diane Keaton. it has an all-star cast that includes Rhea Perlman, Pam Grier, and Celia Weston. i had no idea what it was about, but i love Diane Keaton, so i pressed “play.” what a treat!

as i watched Diane Keaton’s character, Martha, navigate through the emotions of selling all her belongings and moving to a retirement community to live out the last weeks of her life, i began to ponder how necessary these types of movies are. nothing about the age of this cast made the movie any better or worse than a movie in which the cast is all under 30. the glaring difference, of course, is that Martha is staring mortality in the face. and…so…So What? well, i think, this is key. we all like to think we’re immortal and we all like to think we’re not going to age.

watching Poms made me fully realize something. life as we know it doesn’t end at a certain age, nor does it end *because* you’re a certain age, and people in their 70s still have similar concerns that i have in my 40s, many of which are similar to the concerns i had in my 20s. sure, aspects of a 40-something-year old are different from the 20-something version, but, i believe, the core of who we are remains a pretty straight line. i watched these older women face challenges of friendship and family, sex and sexiness, and self-acceptance. you mean, none of those challenges get fully solved by your 70s? by golly! how refreshing!

in the movie, Martha and her friends want to be cheerleaders and are faced with obstacles varying from ageism to sheer physical challenges. of course, they overcome all that, even if the physical part is a bit slower. and, there’s nothing wrong with that! no one can expect a 75-year old body to operate in the same way a 25-year old body would. the depressing truth is that we have been conditioned to hide away the 75-year old body. why? the human body is beautiful and mesmerizing. when treated well and when respected, it can achieve so much, regardless of age. i think we need to honor bodies of all ages and stages, and we need to not hide them after a certain time - especially women’s bodies. we are so hungry for youth and remaining young that we deny the possibilities of what beauty and adventure awaits us when we are no longer a young age.

it brought me so much joy to watch Martha and her cheer squad rehearse their routines and learn different movements, not to mention being challenged to love and accept themselves as they are. i knew what the movie’s ending would bring and, yet, i still cried because it hit close to home, but my heart was so full. this kind of a movie underscores that we won’t have it all figured out by 75, or 80, or 100, should we live that long. but, that is OK because what matters most is that we appreciate the now. strangely, knowing i won’t have it all figured out in 30+ years doesn’t bother me as much as not achieving dreams and long-term to-do lists. there’s that pesky issue with time creeping in, but, with that aside, it’s important to remember that it’s the memories we make along the way that help guide us over the years. by ignoring the fact we won’t, or don’t, have the agility of our youth dishonors all that we have experienced. these experiences, after all, helped usher us into an older age in the first place.

at 75, one may not be able to run a 25K, but it doesn’t mean you cannot run. at 85, one may not be able to dance with a dance company, but it doesn’t mean you cannot dance. at 95, the wrinkles can’t be hidden, but it doesn’t mean one must hide. run, dance, and be seen, but, most importantly, smile in any way you can at whatever age you are. 

your soul will love it.

tic-toc.

Those Who Can, Zoom

Presenting my latest project starring Elektra Cohen, Amanda Lynne, Suzan Mikiel, Paul Petschek, and Allison Youngberg with Music by Josh Hershfield (www.joshhershfield.com).

Teaching remotely. What could go wrong?

(Video contains explicit language.)

5 years without her

five years gone.

five.

the first two to three were rougher than rough. trying to handle this monumental change on top of other monumental changes that occurred in the 11 months prior to my mom’s passing was trying, exhausting, and numbing. i missed so much of my 2nd daughter’s early childhood as a result, and while the mind understands, the heart finds it hard to forgive. there were milestones both daughters’s met without my mom’s cheers or without her words of support. there were moments of getting blind-sided by overwhelming grief like coming across a forgotten hand-written note while looking for something else or opening the closet and suddenly getting a waft of her smell that is still on the scarves i inherited.

having to redefine and reconfigure your life without a loved one as the rest of the world hums along is one of the most challenging experiences many of us will go through.

is today as difficult as it was 4-5 years ago? no. life’s routines and responsibilities, in this way, are a saving grace. my girls were my saving grace. they were a daily reminder that “life goes on.” but the brain still seeks a “How To” book; a timeline of what happens when. we want answers. we want to know what to expect. we want to be prepared. we want to gauge others’s experiences, compare it to ours and determine if we are “on the right track.” someone said to me that i must share my grief so that they will know what exactly to expect and how it will “be.” i am here to emphatically say there is no “How To” book. this is fundamentally why grief is so God damn lonely. your grief will be different from mine. it may take years for one to reach the anger stage. it took me less than 4 weeks. some stay in that stage for a long time. i didn’t. there is no guidebook to say “On Day 46 you will feel like ‘     .’ it all sucks, and the only way is through. 

the only way is through.

it's easy to think the big events will get you: the bday celebrations that won't happen, the holidays, the anniversary of the passing... those aren't easy, per se, but, for me the hardest has been all the little things in between that i always took for granted. the letter in the mail, the phone call, the "just because" packages. i still sometimes check my email in the morning to see if she's written me. 

i recently handed off to my sister some clothes that our mom had sent me for my daughter, and as i showed them, i happened to say "Myti" out loud (which is what we called her). as her name passed my lips, i realized i couldn't remember the last time i said her name out loud. that stung. 

then, a few weeks ago, i went for a walk and found myself at my daughters's school and it hit me that soon it'll be a year since covid shut us down. i stared at the jungle gym bar that my older spent the first 4-5 months of school playing on trying to learn how to flip over. i remembered the day she met me after school excited that she had finally accomplished her goal. seeing her so happy overflowed my heart with joy. i turned it into a teachable moment about how important it was to not give up and not give in to fear when you want to achieve something. i stood there now recognizing that my daughter’s accomplishment was something i could never share with my mom. i started to cry as my grief for my mom became entangled in my grief for this last year with covid, and the crying turned to sobbing as the hole in my heart throbbed wanting nothing more than for my mom to tell me all will be ok. that i will be ok. that i can handle all of *this.* that i'm strong and will survive like i always have.

this is why there's no "How to." what hit me maybe wouldn’t hit someone else. and if it did, maybe it would happen on Day 73 or Day 5,227, respectively. for me it was Day 1,798 and Day 1,800, respectively.

despite the heaviness in my heart, i have done much emotional kneading in the last five years. i’ve always been pretty good at self-analysis, but this time it’s different because it is punctuated by, and driven by, my mother’s loss. i continuously analyze my life and my past, and how it all fits into the road that i wish to carve out for myself. i will share one thing that has become crystal clear. it is so cliché, but, for me, it is so true, and so important that i’m going to say it anyway: my life isn’t driven so much by fear now as it is driven by my desire to accumulate as many moments (memories) as possible that fulfill my soul. i am lucky that prior to my mom’s death, i already had many such memories, but it is now a purpose. often such occasions are spontaneous and i try to seize such experiences when they present themselves. it’s good to have a plan, but it’s even better to be open to flexibility. this has also been, unfortunately, a rather challenging wish to fulfill because not everyone around me feels this way, or even ever understands this. sometimes reaching fulfillment takes effort and to some, the effort isn’t worth the reward. it’s possible “reward” is viewed differently, but i have become all the more convinced that effort is in of itself a “reward.” after much self-reflection, i realized i have spent quite a bit of my life in the last 23 years or so in a passive state because of fear, allowing the trap of don’t-venture-outside-of-your-box to dictate decisions.

work, laundry, paying bills, picking up toys, organizing closets…the list goes on and on…those things are never ending. i’ve done marathon laundry days, i’ve washed mountains of dishes, had marathon cooking days…those help in the short-term, but i know that on my deathbed i won’t be thinking about those never-ending chores. you hear such things over the years, but there’s a difference between hearing and knowing. i still do all of those necessary-to-function chores, but i now view their worth differently which, based on various grief readings i have done, often comes with the territory of losing a loved one, often a parent(s), often your mom.(1)

on February 26, 2016, as my mom transitioned, i stroked her hand and told her to let go, to fly free, that it was OK and that we would miss her, but that i would always remember her and i would talk about her to my girls. i thanked her for everything; for all our times together, for all the experiences we had, for being in my life, and that now it was time for her to be free. not once did i think about all those bills we helped each other pay or whatever fights we had or how she upset me or the ways in which i felt she was being unreasonable. it was the moments and experiences we had together; the overall journey. later, my thoughts fell to wanting to sit down with her just one more time to discuss, or argue, politics, or to discuss religion and spirituality, challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we had, or to talk about mundane things like lesson plans. life’s routine and schedule will always be there. there’s no escaping the societal construct we have created, and there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. but, i no longer want that to be this tunnel vision like it has been for so many years. what’s unfortunate is that covid hit just as i began to awaken to this shift in focus and i’ve been forced to put off some of those bigger moments i seek to have. but, i accept the gift this virus has given and i try to find ways to have constructive time with family especially my girls. i’m silly with them, i dance with them, i play with them, i make art with them, we talk religion or have more difficult conversations like racism and white privilege (yes, you can have those conversations with children!), and i look forward to the many days ahead where we sit down with some wine and some lighted candles, and discuss, or argue, politics, or discuss religion and spirituality, or any challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we have, or to talk about the mundane things whatever they may be at the moment. the only constant is change, and change knows only one direction: forward. 

i want, more than anything else, for my “forward moments” to be filled with many more of my “best moments.” it is how i want to honor my mom, and it is how i want to honor me.

(1) i highly recommend The Orphaned Adult by Alexander Levy