When I was in high school, I often had too much time on my hands. Worse, I had a camera to document it! The below movies were the result of a boring Saturday when 2 friends of I were sitting around with nothing to do. Out of the blue one of us said: "Let's make a movie!" So we grabbed a video camera and pretty much started shooting. Fortunately, we had a lot of good friends who joined in when we asked (and did a pretty good job improving everything then and there). They may regret it now.

So, even though our reputations may never recover, I offer you the complete Clueless Detectives, a movie that stands as a a shining example of why you should never give a video camera to 3 high school boys with nothing better to do on a windy day.

Enjoy!

 

 

Mina, our youngest, loves to dance. Whenever she hears music she starts to shake her diapered booty. Here she is dancing at a corn maze we visited earlier this year. Isn't she cute!

 

Windstorm, 2011

A few nights ago, Jenna and I watched Transformers: Dark Side of the Moon. It was bad. Very bad. I haven't seen one quite that bad in a long time—since Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.

On Monday, Jenna and I went to the Hale Centre Theatre of Orem to see The Drowsy Chaperone. We first saw that play a few years ago during the first national tour (Jonathan Crombiee, the actor who played Gilbert in the Anne of Green Gables movies played the lead role). We loved it and laughed throughout the whole thing, so we were excited to see it again.

The play is about a man, known simply as "The Man in the Chair." He is feeling blue and pondering questions of life and musical theater. To help cheer himself up, he puts on a record ("yes, record") of one of his favorite plays from the 1920s—The Drowsy Chaperone. As he listens, the play comes to life in his apartment, telling an absurdly predictable story about a young woman giving up a life of glamour to tie the knot with a man she barely knows.

The man in the chair narrates and even interacts with the characters as the play builds to its wacky crescendo. Jokes abound, ranging from the outrageous Adolfo, the self-proclaimed "King of Romance," who has the funniest scenes, trying to seduce the bride to the terrible puns by two jovial gangsters disguised as pastry chefs.

Throughout, the play pokes fun at the foibles of theater, especially musicals. It riffs on old-time Broadway prejudice, spit-take sequences, and more and apes dozens of other plays, including a hilarious take on The King and I. It even has well-placed digs at modern Broadway, intermissions, Elton John, and Disney. The result is one of the funniest plays ever staged. But the interesting thing is that, in the middle of a rip-roaringly hilarious time, there is a very powerful--and very serious--message.

The message comes in the middle of the play when the bride is feeling apprehensive about getting married and asks advice from her chaperone, a woman who is perpetually drunk and drowsy (hence the name). In response, the chaperone sings an entirely inappropriate anthem (yes, "anthem") called "As We Stumble Along."

As we stumble along
On life's funny journey,
As we stumble along
Into the blue,
We look here and we look there,
Seeking answers anywhere,
Never sure of where to turn or what to do.

Still we bumble our way
Through life's crazy labyrinth.
Barely knowing left from right
Nor right from wrong,
And the best that we can do
Is hope a blue bird
Will sing his song
As we stumble along.

Later, the man in the chair protests a song that declares that "love is always lovely in the end."

"That's not true!" he says. "Love isn't always lovely in the end. Sometimes there are lawyers."

The audience slowly begins to realize that the man, like so many of us, is frustrated with the difficulties of the world and he uses musicals as a way to escape.

As the play progresses, he gets more and more into it and ignores all disruptions to focus solely on the joy it brings him. He obsesses about a moment where a glitch in the record prevents him from hearing the most important advice the chaperone gives to the bride, which is either "leave while you can" or "live while you can." He points out that is the same choice we have through much of life—leave or live.

Just as the play comes to a triumphant, happy climax, real life intrudes, cutting off the last note in an amusing and frustrating way. The man doesn't know what to do. He thinks about starting over but says, "no, we can't do that, can we?"

He collapses into his chair in despair. There, he returns to the message that makes the play transcend its goofiness. "I know it's not a perfect show," he tells the audience (he's right, it is hilariously bad, but that is on purpose). "But it does what a musical is supposed to do. It takes you to another world. And it gives you a little tune to carry with you in your head for when you're feeling blue."

Softly, he begins to hum and then sing "As We Stumble Along." he is soon joined by the rest of the cast and as the song reaches the end, he opens the door and, squaring his shoulders back, he walks off into the world.

I like that message. It touches on why it is so important to find good, uplifting things in life. There are so many things in life to bring us down, that make us blue. As the economic crisis gets worse and partisan battles increase to the point that we fear blood will be spilled, it is hard to see the good. But good plays, books, music, TV shows, movies and more can help lift us up and make it possible to confront the world with defiance and even joy. It is what stories do--it is why they are important!

Arthur Miller once wrote: "Great drama is great questions or it is nothing but technique. I could not imagine a theater worth my time that didn't want to change the world." I agree. Theater—for that matter, any kind of diversion—should have some kind of redeeming value, or it isn't worth our time and effort. It should try to change the world in some way. Even if it is doing nothing more than lift spirits for a few hours.

That doesn't mean that good theater has to always be fun and light. In fact, deep and darker stories can be just as powerful. One of my favorite movies of all time is Glory, about the first all-black regiment in the Civil War. It isn't a funny film, and often it is uncomfortable to watch. The ending is heart-wrenching and sad, but the movie is amazing because I always walk away from it grateful for those that gave their lives to give me the opportunities I have—those that were willing to give everything to preserve this nation. I walk away a little better and a little stronger and a little more willing to face trials and overcome because it is right.

Another of my favorite movies is The Dark Knight. It is a difficult movie to watch, and it makes you wonder if any good still exists in Gotham and, by extension, the rest of the world. And then comes the end, where the people of Gotham and even the "bad men" mobsters, refuse to blow each other up, even at the cost of their own lives. And you walk away with a newfound hope for humanity, that no matter how dark and depressing things get, we can overcome.

In my mind, that is what great theater--what great popular culture--should do: It should give us a bit of light we can use to hold back the darkness of the world. And hopefully it will give us a little tune to carry with us for when we're feeling blue.

Then we stumble away
Through dawn's blinding sunbeams.
Barely knowing right from left
Nor left from wrong.

But as long as we can hear that little blue bird
There'll be a song
As we stumble along.

Every once in a while, I like to experiment for meals. Today, I tried my hand at making an instant Beef Ragu, a kind of tomato and beef stew served over mashed potatoes. The results were pretty good—the kids liked it, anyway. Here is the recipe for anyone who wants to try it. Ingredients

• 3 cans roast beef (can also make your own roast and use about 3 cups worth, diced). Use the broth from 2 cans but drain the third
• 1 can diced tomatoes
• 1 small can tomato paste
• 1 can sliced carrots
• 1 can green beans
• 1 medium onion, sliced
• 1 green pepper, sliced
• 3 large garlic cloves, crushed
• Instant mashed potato mix

Instructions

1. Mix beef, broth, garlic, onion, and green pepper in a pot (I used a wok, but any pot will work).
2. Bring mixture to a boil, stirring occasionally.
3. Add carrots, green beans, tomatoes, and tomato paste. Stir until well mixed.
4. Sing "Be Our Guest" from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Put special emphasis on the part about Beef Ragu.
5. Let mixture cook on medium heat, stirring occasionally while you prepare mashed potatoes according to package instructions.
6. When the potatoes are finished, serve the beef mixture over them.

Enjoy!

About a year ago, I blogged about my eyes (link to it here), where I talked about the grieving process I was going through for my particular eye condition. In that post I talked about the eventual likelihood that someday I will need a corneal transplant—that a cornea from a donor would have to be grafted in my eye. Well, that day came sooner than I expected. In fact, it is coming on March 15--the Ides of March. About a month ago, I went to the optometrist to have my eyes checked. He looked at my left eye (which they can't even get a reading on anymore) and said: "Wow! I've never seen... that's pretty bad, like, textbook bad." He referred me to a corneal specialist at the Eye Institute (my previous optometrist referred me to the same person). On Friday, Jenna and I hauled Hayden and Mina to the specialist who told me that all other options have been exhausted. If I want better vision, I need a transplant in my left eye. The thing is that I can still see—mostly. There is a lot of ghosting and lights have very dramatic halos, and I often get headaches that I think are caused by my eyes straining, but I can still see. I'm writing this and can read the words, even though they are pretty small. But what worries me is driving at night, which is getting more and more difficult because the headlights and taillights flare so much that it is hard to see the road, especially when it is wet and has more reflections that flare as well. Also, looking at computer screens is getting harder, which obviously concerns me because it is a big part of my job. As when I wrote my first blog post about this topic, I feel a bit conflicted. It will be great to see better, but the whole thing scares me, and it is still very odd to think of having a part of someone else grafted into my body—or the idea that someone has to die for my eyesight to improve. Last night I talked with my brother, who is an optometrist, about it. We discussed several of the potential complications and things to look out for. We also talked about how this will change my life in the future. My brother said, "Remember that this isn't the end. It is a change—the beginning of a whole new adventure." And maybe that is the best way to think about it: an adventure. But that doesn't make it any less scary.