La Femme Recommends...The Deep Blue Sea

Old love, new love, true love, unrequited love, doomed love:  these are the many faces of love that Terrence Davies shares with us in 2012's The Deep Blue Sea.  Based on a play by Terrence Rattigan, the film opens with Hester (Rachel Weisz) attempting to end her life.  In this stunning first sequence, we begin to piece together what has led her to this desperate but seemingly very deliberate and conscious act.  Like so many woman before her, she is caught between two men who couldn't be more different.  In one corner she has William, her rich, well bred, perfectly lovely, but perfectly boring husband (Simon Russell Beale, sad, angry, and generous).  In the other corner is the victor, Freddie (a rakishly devilish Tom Hiddleston who shows us how easy it would be for a woman like Hester to fall for him and also why he will never be able to fulfill her the way she thinks he should), a handsome, charming, young Air Force veteran who is also prone to anger and immaturity and addicted to a lifestyle he cannot afford.  After a Brief Encounter (pun intended), Hester leaves William for the stifling boardinghouse where she lives with Freddie as "Mrs. Page" (her husband vindictively refuses to grant her a divorce) where she is alternatively blissful and neglected.  All three performances are magnificent but this is Weisz's film, as she perfectly puts the viewer in Hester's adulterous shoes and makes love an affliction that looks wonderful and dreadful, often in the same moment.

Terrence Davies has a very particular visual style, and you feel as if you are in an old photograph:  hazy and dreamlike, like a forgotten memory. The film looks lived in and the world of post war London is fully realized in beautiful burnished tones, but this is not kitchen sink drama.  I would compare it more to the lushness of a Douglas Sirk film than the gritty realness of Mike Leigh or Alan Clarke.  There is something very luxurious about the way the movie looks even though Hester is living a life where she has no money and she really has no prospects, but as long as she has the conviction of her love for Freddie, the little boarding room she lives in is warm and welcoming (and beautifully art directed, as is the whole film). Memory and the way it is triggered is a device we see often in the film and the flashback scenes are some of my favorites.  Often Hester will go somewhere or see something that will trigger a memory of a time with Freddie or her husband.  For example, after having a fight with Freddie she runs down in the Underground and seems to contemplate throwing herself in front of the train.  But she slowy realizes she has been in this station before, in the war, hiding from the bombs with her husband and many other citizens of London.  The sequence that follow is seamless: one moment we are in the present, the next, the past lazily comes into focus as Hester remembers the sounds of the huddled masses singing an old song which merges with the sounds of the blitz.  The scene is quietly moving for reasons that are not easily expressed; the feeling is something universal even though the experience is Hester's own.  Davies uses music to great effect, including a stunning pub sing along that fades into an intoxicatingly sexy slow dance between Hester and Freddie that illustrates without any dialogue how she becomes obsessed with him and how he sucks her into a completely different world than she has ever known.

On the surface, The Deep Blue Sea is really a banal love story that has been told many times.  A woman leaves her passionless marriage for a dashing cad and not everything is happily ever after.  But I found the film to be deeply affecting because of its exploration of what love can be.  What happens when one partner loves the other much more deeply and truly?  We find that Hester doesn't need Freddie to love her back, instead she finds the strength in that emotion to propel her through the trials and tribulations she faces.  And we learn that it's not that Freddie doesn't love Hester, in fact he does, quiet deeply. He is just incapable of loving her with the depth and breadth that she loves him.  Her love for him is the thing of sonnets, while his love for her is just a catchy tune he whistles in the street.   Even when everything is going tits up (as Freddie might say) and her husband William gives her a chance to come back to him and have a stable life, she can't give up the possibility that everything will work out, that she will be happy with Freddie again.  She tells William "Lust isn't the whole of life, but Freddie is, you see, for me. The whole of life. And death."  The notion that the love she feels is so deep and so all encompassing is at once romantic and utterly foolish.  You want to shake her to her senses but the heady perfume of love seduces the viewer too.  Like so many Hesters before her, she is branded with the Scarlet A and must face the scorn of society and the people who used to be so important to her.  Hester is an interesting figure, because she is at once defined by her love for one man and her lack of love for the other but she is also making a conscious choice, and, in a way, she is a very feminist and very strong character (much like Hester Pryne).  She is willing to give up everything, even her life, for this one thing she ardently believes in: her love for Freddie.  Love in this case is an almost rebellious act of self discovery and in the end it may not matter if he loves her the same way back.  Instead, her love for him is a force that can drive her to euphoria or destruction and whichever way it leads her she is in it for life.  And death.

Julie

It's Noon Somewhere...Pink Lemonade Margarita

I love margaritas, but then again, doesn't everyone?  Frozen or on the rocks, traditional lime or strawberry (or even a completely bastardized one I had in Oklahoma City that was served in a martini glass with an olive!).  I love the tartness, sweetness, salt, and that kick of the tequila.  A margarita is a classic cocktail but it is also one of the easiest to f*#$ up.  How many times have you gone to your local Mexican restaurant and had a sugary, syrupy, weak, calorie laden margarita?  I remember when K and I first started making cocktails many moons ago and we bought margarita mix for the first time.  It calls for a mix of 4 oz mix to 1 tequila!?  The fools we were, we drank margaritas like that for a while.  No wonder margaritas have the reputation of being one of the most calorie filled cocktails out there.

Bastardized but still delicious!

Well, it doesn't have to be that way! K and I do make traditional margaritas using Trader Joe's wonderful mix that has no hint of chemical flavor of so many margaritas.  Of course, you can always use lime juice and simple syrup as well.  Today though, I am preparing a margarita with no mix at all, instead I am using pink lemonade in place of it.  I like the extra citrus and the pink color gives it an especially fun, girly vibe. This is a wonderful cocktail to remind you of carefree days and warm nights of a vacation or a sitting on a patio on a summer afternoon.  But I think it can be enjoyed anytime.

Pink Lemonade Margarita:

2 oz Tequila
1.5 oz pink lemonade
1 oz  triple sec
1 lime

Mix all together in a shaker and serve on the rocks.  I usually prefer a salted rim but I tried this with both a salted and a sugar rim and I think either would work beautifully.  Garnish with a lime slice.  I don't love how it looked in our margarita glasses so I chose to use a double old fashioned glass but you could serve it on the rocks in a margarita glass as well.

Julie

David Cronenberg Marathon: Part 2

Dead Ringers:  By far my favorite film of the marathon, Dead Ringers is the descent into despair of twin brothers/hot shot gynecologists Beverly and Elliot Mantle. Elliot is the stereotypical playboy - women want him, and men want to be him. But, he also loves his quiet and solemn brother Elliot, so after he sleeps with a woman, he sends Elliot out with her so he can enjoy the same pleasures.  This unseemly system keeps them in perfect harmony together and they have their lives planned out (Elliot will do the research and Beverly will present the papers once they get a tenure at a university).  Until that is  a new client and eventual lover, Claire Niveau, a famous actress on location in Toronto, comes into their lives and figures out their little ruse.  Beverly quickly falls in love with her and makes the mistake of indulging in Claire's drug habits.  From there, we see an incredible tailspin into drug addiction and insanity (also crazy, quasi-medieval gynecological devices).  There is some typical Cronenbergian creepiness, but it is used sparingly and, instead, the film has a quiet sense of dread throughout.  For editing and special effects geeks there are also some amazing sequences with both Elliot and Beverly in the frame.  The real special effect though is Jeremy Irons giving one of the most spectacular performances ever put to celluloid.  Iron's plays each brother as their own person but many times makes his performance a bit ambiguous so it takes a moment to figure out if he is Elliot, Beverly, Beverly playing Elliot or Elliot playing Beverly.  The fact that it really takes only a moment to know exactly what character he is without costume or makeup changes expresses just how much of an achievement this performance(s) is.   Irons individualizes both characters but, at other times, making it ambiguous which one he is playing.    I think Iron's performance exemplifies one of the most interesting themes of the film; that even though the brothers are two people, they are really just one unit.  If Elliot is happy, then so is Beverly, if Beverly is sick, so is Elliot.  Irons show this symbiosis in his performance.  The two brothers are not Siamese twins physically but instead are bound to each other spiritually and emotionally.  Heartbreaking, incestuous, and strange, Dead Ringers stands out in Cronenberg's body of work as his crowning achievement.

Crash:  On this blog, I try to only recommend films and not trash ones that I dislike.  Unfortunately, with our marathons, sometimes you encounter a movie that is just so not your cup of tea.  My immediate, initial, and lasting impression of this film can be summed up quite succinctly: Crash is one of the worst movies I have ever seen.  James Spader (who, at times can be creepily sexy... in other films) is James Ballard, a successful producer married to a gorgeous woman with a fetish: the only way they can get off is to have sex with other people and tell each other about it.  After he gets in a terrible car crash the woman in the other car, Helen, (Holly Hunter) flashes him her breast (as her dead husband has flown through both windshields.  She doesn't seem the least bit bothered).  As James finds himself going deeper and deeper into a new fetish: cars.  This includes, but is not limited to:  having sex in cars, caressing cars, crashing cars, and recreating celebrity car crashes.  The film is supposed to be an erotic thriller about sex and death, but it came off as sterile, uncaring, and, frankly, a little dumb.  I think if Cronenberg had infused similar humor as had been in some of his other films, the movie could have been much more interesting.  Instead we have a group of people who really don't seem to care about their own lives and honestly don't seem to be enjoying the supposed thrill they are supposed to be getting from their car fetish.  Elias Koteas is the films's one bright spot for me as the leader of the car crash societyVaughan.  Koteas  channels a young Robert DeNiro a la Travis Bickle  and delivers a charismatic, creepy, bizarre, sexy, depraved and joyful performance.  If only the rest of the film had as much life as Koteas delivers.

Mon Boo's big scene!

Cosmopolis:  Unlike Dead Ringers, which I loved and Crash, which I hated, Cosmopolis mostly just left me cold.  The story centers on Eric Packer, (Robert Pattinson), a young billionaire travelling across town to get a haircut.  What starts out as a fairly normal day becomes worse and worse as it goes on: there are protesters all across town, Packer is having a fight with his new wife, he may be losing his fortune and there is a man threatening to kill him.   Packer is stuck in the car but receives visits from various employees, business advisers, lovers, and the doctor who gives him a daily prostate exam.    Pattinson gives a surprisingly (and somewhat paradoxically) charismatic performance of a young businessman who seems completely dispassionate, and there are a couple of standout performances by Juliette Binoche, Sarah Gadon, and of course, my beloved Mathieu Amalric, who is the only person who seems to be having any fun with the surreal premise and slightly heightened environment.  With highly stylized dialogue, the film can be a bit of a slog because everyone seems to be spouting faux philosophic treatises and most of the dialogue is delivered in a monotone from everyone.  The film builds to a showdown between Pattison and the man who wants to kill him (Paul Giamatti, also doing his best "crazy homeless person" impression). But ultimately, like Eric , I didn't care what happened to him or any of the other characters (except Mon Boo, of course).

Julie

La Femme in Vancouver, BC

Last month, K and I made one of our regular treks to the gritty, luminous city of Vancouver, British Columbia.  One of the distinct pleasures of living in Seattle is the proximity to British Columbia.  In a couple hours you can be over the border and in the land of maple syrup, Caesar's (the national cocktail of Canada), and Toonies.

Granville Island

K and I definitely have a routine when we go to Vancouver.  We always:  (1) visit Granville Island, (2) stroll Robson Street (Zara, please come to Seattle!) and the downtown core for shopping, and (3) enjoy cocktails at our very favorite haunt (more on that later...).  Granville Island is a marketplace for food, artisanal crafts and stunning views.  The island is pleasant to walk around on a beautiful afternoon and is always a must do.  The interior market area can get very crowded, but it is a must to wander around and gawk at the gorgeous produce, meats, cheeses and baked goods (and to wish you had a local kitchen to cook it all in!).  More than that, however, Granville Island has a plethora of fun shops to check out, including, but not limited to, a shop that sells only handmade brooms.  They also have a fantastic hat shop (have I mentioned, I look fabulous in hats?)

K and I usually spend our time in Vancouver just being flaneurs and exploring the city with stops for shopping and coffee (or cocktails.  No judgment.  Day drinking is perfectly acceptable on vacation, right?).  Vancouver is a diverse, cosmopolitan city and it bustles all through the day and night.  The neighborhoods are distinct, from the yuppy Yaletown, full of design shops and expensive restaurants, to the dilapidated but charming (and up and coming) Gastown.  I also adore exploring my beloved Kitsalano: great restaurants, cute shops and free parking!  Stunningly beautiful, Vancouver is surrounded by water and ruggedly pointed mountains, and the views from Granville Island into the city and from the waterfront into Vancouver Harbor are awe inspiring any time of year.  When it is sunny Vancouver is even better and biking the enormous Stanley Park seawall is a lot of fun (and a great way to burn off all those cocktails!).   There is something very wild about the landscape surrounding Vancouver that we don't have in Seattle even though it is just a few hours north.  I always get a sense of the Arctic when looking at the mountains to the north.

This time, After a leisurely freeway drive up to the border and the usually tense border crossing (well, for me.  I am terrified of immigration officials), and an unusually quick jaunt through the notorious George Massey  tunnel, we made it to our hotel.  K and I have stayed at many hotels in Vancouver, from the incredibly gaudy but surprisingly luxurious Hotel de Soleil to a nondescript Park Inn and Suites on West Broadway with an amazing balcony and view of the False Creek and the city skyline.  This particular trip we chose Hotel Moda, right off the Granville Entertainment District.  Hotel Moda had the veneer of a hip design hotel with the terrible plumbing of a crumbling, downtown city building - our room might be described as minimalist (or it might be described as cheap. As K would say, reasonable minds can differ).  But it did give us great proximity to downtown Vancouver and to Yaletown, a neighborhood we had yet to explore in depth.  K and I usually go across the bridge into Kitsilano, an adorable, hipster (oxymoron?) neighborhood in the west end of Vancouver.

Vancouver is undeniably a foodie town.  On our most recent visit, we had  two different but equally great meals.  The first was at Edible Canada on Granville Island.  Featuring local produce and products from all over the country, Edible Canada is where K and I always eat on Granville Island.  Their burger is to die for (with tomato jam, yum!), and everything we have eaten there is excellent, including the inventive cocktails.  They also have duck fat fries which, for better or worse, are really everything fries should be: crispy, flavorful, salty, and cooked in duck fat.  Fries often leave me disappointed, and I usually only eat about 10 when I get them, but these are an exception (and McDonalds; how the heck does McDonald's have such great fries?  Actually, I probably don't want to know). We also had dinner at  an unassuming little hole in the wall called Yaletown Antipasti (terrible name, I agree).  The kitchen was almost nonexistent, but the straight off-the-boat Italian chef made amazing pastas, and we had some great salami and bruschetta (one of my favorite things EVER). There is also Chambar, a lovely, immaculate (read, expensive), Belgian restaurant.  I was never a steak fan until a few years ago when we went there and I decided to be different and get steak. Seriously. It changed my life.  Chambar is dark and sexy and has great and interesting food. It is on the list once again for our next trip.

But biological sustenance and indelible edibles notwithstanding... you know it must be twelve o'clock somewhere, and there is only one place we go for cocktails.

Listen, I love Vancouver. Its a wonderfully cosmopolitan city, and I love to visit. But, I have been holding out on you.  I really only have one love in Vancouver, and it is called a bellini from Cactus Club Cafe.

The amazing bellini from Cactus Club  

Now, this is no ordinary bellini (made with champagne and peach puree). Oh, no.  This is, quite frankly, a masterpiece.  A frozen bellini with a sangria floater (you may be hearing angels as you read this).  As a lifelong slurpee lover, I couldn't believe it when we went here for the first time.  Cactus Club a totally ridiculous restaurant, a Canadian chain, vaguely clubby and faux hip, with decent food, it really is a desitnation for K and I.  We went to Cactus Club the first time a few years ago after our luggage had been searched at the train station customs and the trip was starting out terribly (I told you I hate border patrol).  The downtown location, a light-filled, glass building, just happened to be a block away from our hotel, so, crabby and starving, we walked into the bar to eat.  I can't even remember what I ate. But the bellini was amazing.  I like sweet drinks, K doesn't, but even he admitted it was tasty.  Kitschy, maybe a little tacky, Cactus Club is always fun to go to and K and I always make sure to visit daily when we are in Vancouver (now you know why we have to bike the seawall!).  Me for my bellini, he for his double Manhattan (that is another great thing about them, all cocktails are a double).  I am strangely thirsty now!

Vancouver is truly one of my favorite destinations, and I hope to return many times (and have many bellinis!).

Julie

It's Noon Somewhere....So Co Hurricane

Next month K and I are making our first trip to the mythical, magical city of  New Orleans. I can't wait.  In honor of Mardi Gras, we are pulling out one of our favorite cocktails for the weekend (with a twist).

Admittedly, Southern Comfort or So Co may be considered a little country bumpkin for this blog.  I mean, it is more readily associated with country folk and K and I are certainly not country folk (sorry dear).  But I think that the rich, peachy, whisky flavor adds a lot to the juice concoction known as a hurricane.  Usually, you use dark and light rum and a mixture of fruit juices but a couple months ago, K was going through a Southern Comfort kick while watching Treme (So Co is made in good old Louisiana) so we thought we'd try an extra Louisiana twist on the classic New Orleans cocktail.

So Co Hurricane

1.5 oz Southern Comfort
1 oz pineapple juice
1 oz sour mix
1 oz orange juice
Juice of 1 lime

Shake all ingredients together with ice.  One of the best things about having a hurricane is using a hurricane glass.  But if you don't have one, you can use a double old fashioned, a big red wine glass or even a brandy snifter.  I think all drinks deserve beautiful glassware, but a hurricane demands it!  Make sure to garnish with a cherry and orange slice.

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Julie

La Femme Recommends...Kings and Queen

One day, in a La Femme Recommends, I promise that I will review a fun, breezy, modern film with broad appeal (K is appealing for The A-Team.  Never.).  That is not the movie I am recommending today.  Instead, I am going to try and convince you, dear reader, to see Kings and Queen, a three hour, sprawling French film that includes, in no particular order: comedy, tragedy, melodrama, gunfire, murder, lost love, French hip hop, "Moon River", and one hell of a femme fatale.

Nora (Emanuelle Devos), our heroine / villain / femme fatale / Botticelli goddess lives a charmed life.  She is engaged for the to a rich, gangster-like businessman who she seems mildly interested in. She also runs a successful gallery, which she is also mildly interested in.  She has been married twice before: her first husband is dead, and we will get into the second one in depth later.  She also has a ten year old son from her first marriage, Elias, who she also seems mildly interested in (sense a theme?)  and who she rarely sees, apparently without much guilt.  Of all the men in Nora's life, the only one she seems to truly love is her father, Louis, a famous writer.   Unfortunately, he has been diagnosed with stomach cancer and is dying a terrible and painful death.  While Nora takes care of her father, we get more insight into the four men she has loved (her father, her first husband, her son, and finally her second husband, Ismael.  Notice, her new fiance is not on this list).

There is a remoteness to Nora that can be off putting; she can be a bit cold and maybe even conniving (see, e.g., her new relationship in which her love can now be bought), but there is also incredible warmth in Devos's performance.  I have sung her praises before but this is my favorite performance of her career.  Nora is an incredibly complex character: the more we learn about her, the less we like her but, at the same time, the more we sympathize with her.  There is something strange and beautiful about Devos that Desplechin brings out perfectly.  She is not a traditional beauty, but in this film she is radiant, an object of worship and scorn.  A late act revelation about how a character truly feels about her is at once devastating and also a little gratifying.  But the revelation strikes her so hard, we, like the men in the film, want to make her forget about it.

While Nora is ensconced in tragedy, Husband #2, Ismael is living a burlesque comedy.  Ismael, a violist, has been committed to a mental hospital by an unknown "friend" after his eccentric behavior begins to drive them mad.  As he schemes with his lawyer, a drug addict, to get out, he also begins a tentative relationship with a fellow patient. Ismael is played by my favorite French actor, Mathieu Amalric, and he is wonderfully unhinged (and strangely handsome.  Amalric is the epitome of unconventionally handsome).  In the course of the film, Ismael will (1) wear a cape, (2) break dance and, (3) tell Catherine Deneuve that women have no souls. Amalric could easily have given just a broad comic performance, and while there are elements of that (Hello, he break dances! See the video above.  You're welcome.), Amalric and Desplechin, makes Ismael just as complex and as true as Nora.  Ismael is a huge a&#hole, but he is one of those detestable, yet irresistible ones (you know what I mean). He is also thoughtful, intelligent and in his last scene, incredibly romantic.

As Nora and Ismael weave in and out of each other's lives, the stories collide. But, this is not a movie where the stories directly relate.  Desplechin has an incredibly deft hand at filmmaking; huge tonal shifts work remarkably well here and he also has a great flair with editing.  Jump cuts, sepia tones, archival footage and even a stage like set for one scene all work together to disconcert but engage the viewer. Desplechin also offers a tapestry of minor characters (although they are so perfectly drawn they shouldn't be called minor at all.) In addition to Hippolyte Girardot as the madcap lawyer, there is Catherine Denevue as the hospital director and Jean-Paul Roussillon and Maurice Garrel (grandfather of my famed french boyfriend, Louis a.k.a Monsieur Dirty Hot) as our heroes' respective fathers.

Despleschin was inspired by Francois Truffaut's declaration that he wanted to have four ideas in every scene.  Despleschin succeeds beautifully and frustratingly with Kings and Queen.  This is the kind of movie that you never really understand fully but appreciate more each time you watch it.  There is something so close to reality about the characters of Nora and Ismael that we love and hate them but also empathize with them in an almost uncomfortable way.  As we follow them on the road to forgiveness and acceptance, we root for them and scold them in a way that I have never felt for any other film characters (except for perhaps my beloved Jesse and Celine from the Before Sunset / Sunrise films).  Kings and Queen is absolutely a masterpiece.  Difficult, beautiful, rewarding, heart breaking and heart swelling, just like all of our lives.

Julie

La Femme on...The Book of Mormon

Hello.  My name is Sister Julie, and I would like to share with you the most amazing thing.  A couple of weeks ago, I felt the most pure joy that I had since my honeymoon.  K and I saw the touring production of The Book of Mormon.  For those of you unaware of this amazing 2011 musical written by Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park infamy, and Robert Lopez of Avenue Q (another musical I have been dying to see), I have to warn you: It is not for the faint of heart or the easily offended.  If you turn your nose up at the incredibly dirty but wonderfully sweet South Park then you would hate this musical with a heart of gold underneath its potty mouth.  But for everyone else (and for me especially), The Book of Mormon is a revelation.  I have always been a fan of musical theatre and enjoyed every production I have ever seen, but I have never felt the same joy watching a live cast perform as much as I have, say, watching Gene Kelly leap in Singin' in the Rain.  The magic of theatre could never eclipse the magic of the cinema.  Until now.

The Book of Mormon follows our hero, Elder Price, a young Mormon about to go on his mission.  Elder Price is the kind of guy other people envy (and maybe hate a little):  he is handsome, confident and always gets what he wants.  He also lives in a bubble.  For his mission, he hopes to go to his favorite place in the world: ORLANDO (home of Disney, Seaworld, and putt-putt golfing)!  As the missionaries are placed with their mission companions, Elder Price is paired with the awkward, chubby, and nerdy Elder Cunningham; together, they set off to Uganda (home of...) to begin their mission.  Elder Price knows that he and his mission partner are going to convert many villagers to Mormonism (well, Elder Price knows he will be doing most of the converting as he reveals in the hilarious "You and Me (But Mostly Me)").   They are shocked to find out that the villagers are worried about more pressing issues than finding a new religion, like, I don't know, AIDS, poverty, and a warlord with an unprintable name for this family friendly blog who is planning to genitally mutilate all the women in the village.  Plus, a guy who can't stop proclaiming that he has maggots in his scrotum.  What happens next is both glorious and profane.

The Book of Mormon does everything right when it comes to staging a musical.  The songs are catchy (in fact, I have been listening to the soundtrack for weeks), the harmonies are perfect, the dance numbers are great and the sets are fun.   I think the genius of this play is that, while Parker and Stone are definitely making fun of, well everything (Broadway included), they are also paying tribute to it.  You can see the affection that they have for Broadway musicals in everything from the tribute to the bizarre "Uncle Tom's Cabin" number in the King and I to the delightfully hilarious (and extremely dirty) "Hasa Diga Eebowai", which starts out as a "Hakuna Matata" /  Lion King spoof and goes somewhere entirely different.   But the quality and commitment of the cast and wonderful musicality of the songs keep you completely engaged (and there is something wonderfully subversive about hearing angelic singers singing the f-word (among others)).  The dancing was some of the tightest I have ever seen on stage, and, frankly some of the gayest.  Parker and Stone embrace the flamboyance of a stage musical to great effect.  There are a lot of jazz hands (and sparkly pink vests) in The Book of Mormon, and I couldn't get enough of it.

I couldn't finish this piece without mentioning religion and Mormonism.  Obviously, the entire musical makes fun of Mormonism as a religion and uses that as a basis to make fun of all religions, especially those that try to impose their worldview on others (and end up repressing their own parishioners at the same time).  But instead of being a takedown of Mormonism,  The Book of Mormon tries and succeeds in showing the good things religion does (don't get me wrong, it shows the bad parts too, particularly homophobia and repression in my favorite number of the musical, "Turn it Off").  In fact, Mormons generally come off as charitable, full of hope and really f*#$king nice.  But in the end, the message I took away from The Book of Mormon is if your belief system gives you joy and comfort, whether it be Christianity, Mormonism or Star Wars, what's so wrong with that?  When it comes to religion, I am not sure what I believe in... but I know that I believe in The Book of Mormon.

Julie