#what do you MEAN there was no script and all the dancers were improvising? what do you MEAN gaspar figured the story out as he went?

[mangle-my-mind]

I just watched Climax and holy shit

[thealexchen]

Highlights of the Katy and Erika Q&A

Link to the Q&A! https://www.twitch.tv/videos/1161022793 

- Erika’s first audition with a scene partner was with Han Soto (Gabe)! Neither of them had gotten their parts yet, but Han still called “I’ll see you on set!” over his shoulder as he was leaving. Erika also said that he was a wonderful mentor figure and also someone who gave her a lot of shit, like an older brother would.

- THEY ANSWERED MY QUESTION!!! 😭 I had asked, "Since you were working on this game for several years, how do you think your performance or skills as an actor changed over time as you got to know your character better?"

Erika explained that in an early callback, she had to act out Gabe’s death scene and got into the moment by imagining that her little brother Evan had died. Later on she realized that it wasn’t healthy or sustainable to go to such dark places mentally over and over: “It's great to bring your lived experience in but not at the at the level of sacrificing your own health.” She later referred to the Lucid Body Technique invented by a dancer named Fay Simpson that she learned while on an acting retreat in Creed, CO (”Fun fact, Creed is actually a small mining town that was saved by theater!”). Instead of calling up traumatic memories, Erika focused on where that emotion “lives” in her body, accessed them safely, and was able to bring herself back to the present moment. Katy also mentioned she studied the technique in college. All super interesting stuff!

- Han pulled so many pranks on set that Webb (performance director) and Corwin (mocap producer) forced him to limit it to “one prank per day... on Erika.” He managed to jumpscare her every time and when she tried to get him back, “He didn’t even blink. I was like ‘What the fuck is going on?”

- Alex evolved a lot over the course of writing the game. Apparently the first iteration of Alex was a lot more like Chloe-- very bitter, brittle and with a lot of repressed anger-- but that got softened as they developed Alex’s power and as Erika brought more of herself to the performance.

- Apparently Gabe’s death scene was fun to film because when Gabe got knocked off the cliff, Erika got pulled in a sled to simulate Alex being pulled toward the edge while tied to Gabe. So they did a million takes of that and Erika just got to sit in a sled. Meanwhile Katy was at a butterfly garden down the street.

- Another fun scene (apparently) was when Alex fell down the mineshaft at the end of chapter 4 and the beginning of chapter 5, as Erika describes: “They basically rigged me up to a swing, like a sex swing-- not a sex swing. I mean, I walked in and I think that was my first question. I was like ‘Is that a sex swing? What are we filming today? I didn’t get these scripts.’” Cue the chat going insane.

What actually happened was she hung onto a board and two pulleys dropped on either side of her so she fell onto a crash pad. Apparently Webb practiced before and “really bruised the shit out of his ribs.”

- The “The crowd is really picking up on my energy. Haaaaa we love you Alex! Haaaaa Steph sucks!” line during the foosball game was entirely improvised by Erika, just having fun on set. Erika also admits she’s very chatty and just enjoyed getting to know her castmates so that they were already all friends when they acted together.

- Webb sent Han and Erika on a day trip to Idaho Springs early in production to bond and of course Han suggested they go gambling (Erika added, “Which of course is something that Gabe would do! Like ‘Let’s go do something sinful.”) They also played with Han’s drone. Katy went to see one of Erika’s plays in Colorado!

- When asked about what Erika would do if she had Alex’s powers: “I think it would be a cool power too because there’s so much covering that happens with all of us in social settings and professional settings. And being able to have insight into what’s really going on would probably create the need to be a much a kinder, generous, forgiving person, which are things that I’m always working on. I don’t think you could not become that.”

- Erika on Asian representation in True Colors: "[Alex is] not the best friend, she's not the tiger mom, she's her own fully realized, three dimensional person with flaws and goals and dreams and things she wished she could do over again. And I think that, for me, as somebody who grew up not seeing people who looked like me in movies-- and that's why Lucy Liu was such a fucking huge deal-- but the fact that D9 didn't do it in a tropey way was incredible. I know how important that Alex is a woman of color. She doesn't fit the mold of typical video game female bodies either, which I think is amazing."

- Erika lowkey hated the mocap suits. She couldn’t understand why Katy didn’t mind them and said “Katy. Katy. Katy.” “No it was so comfy it was like I was in my jammies!” “I remember you said that and I was like ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?! This is not comfortable!’”

- Erika’s advice to aspiring creatives: “Don’t let the fear of being bad at something stop you.”

- E: “I feel like I've been talking a lot" K: “This is your interview!" E: “Yeah I know but your voice is better.” K: “What?! MA’AM. MA’AM??”

- When Erika and Katy talk about teleportation as a superpower: “Or like when you wake up in the middle of the night and you have to pee, like ‘Should I just pee my pants? Or should I walk to the-- it’s just so far.”

- When Erika mentioned she grew up with a Golden Retriever the chat went “RYAN THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER”

- Erika’s closing remarks: I cannot wait for y’all to play the DLC because Wavelengths is gonna be the shit. And I’m gonna tell you why! Because it’s all about Steph! Which means it’s all about Katy! It’s gonna be so fucking good you guys. It’s gonna be beautiful. It’s gonna be funny. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll want to live in Haven Springs even more. You’ll want to marry Katy Bentz. What more could you ask for?? K: Could you be my hype woman forever please?

[rllibrary]

Blonde / Joyce Carol Oates / 2000

Above: the British paperback cover (If you want a copy of this version, search ISBN 9781841153728)

Quotes (As always, for educational/entertainment purposes only! Full disclaimer at rllibrary.tumblr.com )

*

"Look, sweetie. You're making too much of it. You've seen a boy's- a man's- thing, haven't you?"

Elsie was so crude and blunt, Norma Jeane laughed, startled.

She nodded, just barely.

"Well, you know- it gets bigger. You know that."

Again, just barely, Norma Jeane nodded.

"It has to do with them looking at you. It makes them want to- you know- 'make love.'"

(130)

*

Monroe was a natural even as a girl. She had brains but operated from instinct. I believe she could see herself through the camera eye. It was more powerfully, more totally sexual to her than any human connection...Her problem wasn't she was a dumb blonde, it was she wasn't a blonde and she wasn't dumb.

(232)

*

And the director is thinking, This girl is the first actress of the twenty or more he's auditioned for the role (including the black-haired actress he's probably going to cast) who has caught on to the significance of the scene's opening, the first who seems to have given the role any intelligent thought and who has actually read the entire script (or so she claims) and formed some sort of judgment on it. The girl opens her eyes, sits up slowly and blinking, wide-eyed, and says in a whisper, "Oh, I- must have been asleep." Is she acting, or has she actually been asleep? Everyone's uncomfortable. There is something strange here.

(242)

*

She was fascinating to watch. Like a mental patient, maybe. Not acting. No technique. She'd put herself to sleep and out would come this other personality that was her yet also not-her.

People like that, you can see why they're drawn to acting. Because the actor, in her role, always knows who she is. All losses are restored.

(243)

*

Where at her audition Norma Jeane had spoken Angela's lines with seeming spontaneity, naively lying on the floor, now on her feet she was paralyzed with fear at the enormity of the risk before her. What if you fail. If you fail. You will fail. Then you must die. If fired from the film she would be obliged to destroy herself, yet she was deeply in love with Cass Chaplin and hoped one day to have his child- "How can I leave him?" And there was her obligation to Gladys in the hospital at Norwalk. "How can I leave her? Mother has no one but me."

(253)

*

"Norma, for Christ's sake. Your director will lead you step by step through your scenes, that's what movies are. Not real acting, like the theater; not where you're on your own. Why work so hard? Turn yourself inside out? You're sweating like a horse. Why does this matter so much?"

The question hovered between them. Why does it matter so much? So much!

Knowing it was absurd, what she could not explain to her lover- Because I don't want to die, I'm in terror of dying. I can't leave you. Because to fail in her acting career was to fail at the life she'd chosen to justify her wrongful birth. And even in her mildly deranged state she understood the illogic of such a statement.

(254)

*

You just can't take your eyes off her. Cass and me, we'd see Niagara a dozen times.... It's because Rose is us. In our souls. She's cruel in ways we are. She's without any morality, like an infant. She's always looking at herself in the mirror just like we'd look if we looked like her. She's stroking herself, she's in love with herself. Like all of us! But it's supposed to be bad... 

(347)

*

It was like only the camera knew how to make love to her the way she needed, and we were voyeurs just hypnotized watching.

(347)

*

About midway in the movie, when Rose is mocking and laughing at her husband for not being able to get it up, Cassie says to me, "This isn't Norma. This is not our little Fishie." And the hell of it was, it wasn't. This Rose was a total stranger. This was nobody we'd laid eyes on before. Out here, people thought "Marilyn Monroe" was just playing herself. Every movie she made, no matter that it was different from the others, they'd find a way to dismiss it- "That broad can't act. She's just playing herself." But she was a born actress. She was a genius, if you believe in genius. Because Norma didn't have a clue who she was, and she had to fill this emptiness in her. Every time she went out, she had to invent her soul. Other people, we're just as empty; maybe in fact everybody's soul is empty, but Norma was the one to know it.

That was Norma Jeane Baker when we knew her. When we were "the Gemini." Before she betrayed us- or maybe we betrayed her. A long time ago, when we were young.

(347-8)

*

So strange! The audience adored Lorelei Lee. They liked Dorothy, too- Jane Russell was wonderfully warm, attractive, sympathetic, and funny- but clearly the audience preferred Lorelei Lee. Why? Such rapt, smiling faces. Marilyn Monroe was a winner, and everyone loves a winner.

Oh the irony was, surely these people all knew: Marilyn didn't exist.

I can't fail. If I fail I must die. This had been Marilyn's secret no one knew.

(429)

*

I was terrified. I wasn't ready. I'd been up most of the night. I kept having to pee! I wasn't taking any drugs, only just aspirin. And an antihistamine tablet Mr. Pearlman's assistant gave me, for a sore throat. I believed the Playwright would take one look at me and speak to Mr. Pearlman and that was it, I'd be out of the cast. Because I never deserved to be there, and I knew it. I seemed to know this beforehand. I seemed to see myself going down those stairs. I held the script, and I tried to read the lines I'd marked in red, and it was like I'd never seen them before. My only clear thought was: If I fail now, it's winter here, freezing. It wouldn't be hard to die, would it?

(497)

*

Pearlman spoke of the Theater as you'd speak of God. Or more than God, for theater was something in which you participated and lived. "Die for it! For your talent! Scour out your guts! Be hard on yourself, you can take it. It's life and death up there on the stage, my friends. And if not life and death, it's nothing." It was what I revered in him. Oh, he could reach right in....

But he exploited you, didn't he? As a woman.

A woman? What do I care about myself as a woman? I never did....I came to New York to learn to act.

Why do you give Pearlman so much credit? I hate it, in interviews, you exaggerate his role in your life. He eats it up, it's great publicity for him.

Oh, but it's true...isn't it?

You just want to deflect attention from yourself. It's what women do. Defer to bullies. You knew how to act, darling, when you came here.

I did? No.

Certainly you did. I hate this, too, the way you misinterpret yourself.

I do? Gee....

You were a damned good actress when you came to New York. He didn't create you.

You created me.

Nobody created you, you were always yourself.

Well, I guess I knew...something. When I did movies. In fact I was reading Stanislavski. And the diary of, of...Nijinski. 

Nijinski.

Nijinski. But I didn't know what I knew. In practice. It was just...what happened when I had to perform. To improvise. Like striking a match....

The hell with that. You were a natural actress from the start.

Oh, hey! Why're you mad, Daddy? I don't get this.

I'm only just saying, darling, you were born with the gift. You have a kind of genius. You don't need theory. Forget Stanislavski! Nijinski! And him.

I never think of him.

Him messing with you...your mind, your talent...like somebody's big thumbs gripping a butterfly, smearing and breaking the wings.

Hey, I'm no butterfly. Feel my muscle? My leg here. I'm a dancer.

Bullshit theory is for somebody like him: can't act, can't write.

Kiss-kiss, Daddy? C'mon.

(503-4)

*

What kind of questions did he ask you?

My...motivation.

Which was?

To...not die.

What?

To not die. To keep on....

I hate it when you talk like that. It tears my heart.

Oh, I won't! I'm sorry.

(505)

*

Pearlman was always saying how surprised he was by you. What you're really like.

But...what'd that be? What I'm really like?

Just yourself.

But that isn't enough, is it?

Of course it is.

No. It never is.

What do you mean?

You're a writer, because being just yourself isn't enough. I need to be an actress, because being just myself isn't enough. Hey, you won't ever tell people, will you?

I would never speak of you, darling. It would be like flaying my own skin.

You would never write about me, either...would you, Daddy?

Of course not!

(505-6)

*

Why don't I remember things better, my mind gets stuck on a role I'm doing, and I...it's like I'm in two places at once? With other people but not...with them. Why I love to act. Even when I'm alone I'm not.

Your gift is so natural, you don't "act." You require no technique. Yes, it's like a match being struck. A sudden flaring flame....

But I like to read, Daddy! I got good grades in school. I like to...think. It's like talking with somebody. In Hollywood, on the set, I'd have to hide my book if I was reading....People thought I was strange.

Your mind can get muddled. You're easily influenced.

Only by people I trust.

(507)

*

It would astonish the Playwright when he came to know the Blond Actress better how, when she didn't wish to be recognized, she rarely was, for "Marilyn Monroe" was but one of her roles and not the one that most engaged her.

(513)

*

"I was thinking, what Chekhov does with Natasha, he surprises you because Natasha turns out so strong and devious. And cruel. And Magda, you know- well, Magda is always so good. She wouldn't be, in real life? I mean, all the time? I mean"- the Playwright could see the Blond Actress shifting into a scene, face animated, eyes narrowed- "if it was me, a cleaning girl- and I used to do work like that, laundry, dishes, scrubbing toilets, when I was in an orphanage and a foster home in Los Angeles- I'd be hurt, I'd be angry, how life was so different for different people. But your Magda...she never changes much. She's good."

"Yes. Magda is good. Was good. The original. It wouldn't have occurred to her to be angry." Was this true? The Playwright spoke curtly, but he had to wonder.

(513-4)

*

There was the Norma who spoke to him and there was the Norma at a short distance from him. The one an object of emotion, the other an object of aesthetic admiration. Which of course is a type of emotion, no less intense.

(586)

*

The Playwright had noticed, as Max Pearlman had pointed out, how women often took warmly to Norma, quite in reverse of expectations. You would anticipate jealousy, envy, dislike; instead, women felt a curious kinship with Norma, or "Marilyn"; could it be, women looked at her and somehow saw themselves? A man might smile at such a misapprehension. A delusion, or a confusion. But what can a man know? If anyone resisted Norma, it was likely to be a certain kind of man; one sexually attracted to her, yet wise enough to know she would rebuff him. What strategies of irony bred out of threatened male pride, the Playwright well knew.

(591)

*

"He doesn't love me. It's some blonde thing in his head he loves. Not me."

(600)

*

"Darling, maybe you should stop feeding those cats," the Playwright suggested.

"Oh, I will! Soon."

"More and more of them will be showing up. You can't feed the entire Maine coast."

"Daddy, I know. You're right."

Yet she continued, through the summer, as he'd known she would. How many scrawny, starving cats showed up each morning to be fed by her, he didn't want to know. Her strange stubbornness. Her powerful will. The man knew himself obliterated by her, in essential things. Only in surface matters was he triumphant.

(605)

*

She knew she did not deserve life as others deserve life & though she had tried, she had failed to justify her life; yet she must continue to try, for her heart was hopeful, she meant to be good!

(625)

*

Monroe wanted to be an artist. She was one of the few I'd ever met who took all that crap seriously. That's what killed her, not the other. She wanted to be acknowledged as a great actress and yet she wanted to be loved like a child and obviously you can't have both.You have to choose which you want the most.Me, I chose neither.

(638)

*

The fairy tale. The Blond Actress would herself come to believe in this fairy tale a man had written for her as a love offering. She would come to believe not just that luminous Roslyn could save the small herd of wild mustangs but that wild mustangs might be saved. These horses, only six remaining of how many hundreds and one of them a foal. A foal galloping anxiously beside its mother. Lassoed and roped by the desperate men, yet they might be saved from death. From the butcher's knife and being ground into dog food. Here is no romance of the West or even of manly ideals and courage but a melancholy "realism" to thrust into an American audience's faces! Roslyn alone would run into the desert in an action blocked out with care by the Blond Actress and her director that would allow her to express, at the top of her lungs, her fury at manly cruelty. (But I don't want close-ups. Not of me screaming.") She would scream at the men Liars! Killers! Why don't you kill yourselves!  She would scream in the emptiness of the Nevada desert until her throat was raw. Until the interior of her sore-pocked mouth throbbed with pain. Until more capillaries burst in her straining eyes. Until her heart pounded close to bursting. I hate you! Why don't you die! She may have been screaming at those men of her life whose faces she retained or she may have been screaming at those men lacking faces, constituting the vast world beyond the perimeters of the crimson velvet backdrop and the blinding-bright photographer's lights. She may have been screaming at H who had eluded her charm. She may have been screaming into a mirror. She'd told Doc Fell she would not need any medication that morning (after even the stupor of the phenobarbital night) and aroused now to pity, horror, rage by the spectacle of the trapped horses she had not needed any drug. She believed she would never again need any drugs. What power! What joy! She would return to Hollywood alone, and she would buy a house, her first house, and she would live alone, and she would do only work she wanted to do; she would be the great actress she had a chance of becoming; she would no longer be trapped by men; she would no longer be cheated of her truest self. The Blond Actress was expressing anger, rage. At last. Except (all observers would claim) it wasn't the simulated expression of anger and rage but genuine passion ripping through the woman's body like an electric current.

"Liars! Killers! I hate you."

(668-9)

*

"You feel genuine emotion, Miss Monroe! That's why you're a brilliant actress. That's why people see in you a magnified image of themselves. Of course they're deluded, but happiness dwells in delusion! Because you live in your soul like a candle that lives in its own burning. You live in our American soul. Don't smile, Miss Monroe. I'm serious, too. I'm saying that you're an intelligent woman, not just a woman of 'feeling'; you're an artist, and like all artists you know that life is just material for your art. Life is what fades, art is what remains. Your emotions, your anguish over your divorce or Mr. Gable's death, whatever-" with an airy impatient gesture taking in all of the world she'd inhabited in thirty-five years or even envisioned: the very memory of the Holocaust evoked out of much-thumbed secondhand books rescued from a used-book store, vessels of Jewish fortitude and suffering, the stale-rancid odors of the California madhouses of her mother's captivity, all the memories of her personal life, as if they were of no more significance to her than a screenplay- "you may as well see your trauma as a newsreel, because others will."

(679)

*

This doctor says there are miracle drugs now

to control the "blues." I said, oh if the

blues go, what about blues music? He asked

is the music worth the agony & I said that

depends upon the music & he said life is more

precious to retain than music, if a person is

depressed her life is endangered & I said

there must be a middle way & I would find that

way.

(683)

*

Mother? What did you want from me I could never give you? How did I fail? I tried so hard. She wondered if, if she'd played piano better for Mr. Pearce and sung better for poor Jess Flynn, her childhood would have turned out differently? Maybe her miserable lack of talent had contributed to Gladys Mortinsen's madness. Maybe something in Gladys had simply snapped.

Still, Gladys had seemed to absolve her of blame. Nobody's fault being born, is it?

(695)

*

Hey I love to act. Truly, acting is my life! Never so happy as when I'm acting, not living.

Oh, what'd I say?  Oh well, you know what I mean.

(Why am I so afraid, then? I will not be afraid.) 

(697)

*

Joyce Carol Oates, Blonde, ISBN 9781841153728

[rkchwev-blog]

awake - jbj95 outfit | line distribution dance: ( 00:00 - 00:18 ); ( 00:56 - 01:05 ); ( 01:09 - 01:12 )

this was not a situation he thought he would even make it to. perhaps it was the residual lack of self confidence that still stormed its way through his mind at the most inopportune of moments that made him think this way but each week that passed where his name was not called during eliminations felt far too surreal for him to simply acknowledge his presence on the MGAs as a solidified fact. nothing was for sure in this show nor was it in this business and so he made it a point to not take his continued chance for granted. he’d have to come back stronger each time.

he was aware of his position when compared to the other contestants. or rather… his lack of position. when it came to rappers he was competing against a former idol of a group he was actually a fan of and a fan favorite that everyone seemed to love in their interviews. he’d gotten a few commendations but he was never really suited for variety and so his screen time when compared to others was lacking as well. he had what he had going for himself and he needed to make that work else he would be buried alive by the others.

this was something he was sure he had foreseen happening when the next challenge was announced. duos. pairs. a partner.

it rendered him speechless at first. who was she? oh she had been commended by the judges. so she had to be really good. what kind of music would she like? would their images match well? would they be able to keep up with each other? would they even get along? so many thoughts were running through his head and they’d not even had the proper chance to greet one another before they were directed back to their seats.

surely this was going to be a fucking disaster.

however he couldn’t have been more wrong. all of the nerves he went into their collaboration with were soon melted away after their first practice. he would have to adjust to working with others in that regard and sia definitely put him to work. her anxiety inwardly made him anxious. it was written all over her face just how nervous she was, how worried she was about everything. that instability rattled him… but he could empathize with it. he knew firsthand how crippling anxiety could be and not even for the sake of the show but simply for her own peace of mind, he did everything he could to assuage her worries and fears.

he brought food for them from work to eat and get energy for their practices. she seemed at ease when talking about her cat and so many fun stories were exchanged along with promised playdates. she grew comfortable and song suggestions began to enter the conversation and from her observations, she made brilliant suggestions that when he looked at and listened to them, he could see himself within the performance. his music was taking an upward turn. happier. able to connect with others without drawing on the negative. the lyrics of awake especially drew him as he imagined yeji and what she meant to him. the love he felt for the song was instant.

things were progressing smoothly.

they grew closer as they practiced and the more they interacted in the studio and in messages sent back and forth, the more it became easier to be comfortable as they established a natural chemistry to translate into their performance. a week was a short amount of time to fully know someone but they were at ease with each other and there was a mutual trust that their futures were in each others hands and that they were truly in this together. he was the better dancer of the two – a truly relative position to have when they were both beginners – and though they only selected short snippets of the choreography, they wanted it as perfect as possible. the moves would brighten the song – the entire atmosphere they were going for – and they wanted to make sure it remained an asset and not something detrimental.

there was an adjustment period for him that he couldn’t ignore though. to rap someone else’s lyrics as though they were his own. it was odd. having to follow someone else’s flow when his own flow switched up and changed on his own whim was something he had to find comfort in to be able to find confidence in someone else’s lyrics. he had to suspend his own creative difference from the original lyrics and instead find himself within them and when he approached it differently – as though he were looking at a script – pieces began to fall into place. yeji. this was for her.

they went shopping to agree on outfits for the stage and though his hair was such a hassle in his eyes, they were able to agree on a look that would be comfortable for them both and keep the youthfulness and playfulness of the song alive. it was different than what he was used to but when they wore their outfits in the store and stood with one another in the mirror, he could really see the picture come together. the loving atmosphere of the song. their skills. their stage presence.

this would work. he could feel it.

—–

the day had finally come.

he’d woken up that morning feeling really good and though he was nervous about performing with someone else in a genre that he was beginning to adventure into, he was glad that he was getting the chance to do it with sia. they both had a quiet kind of charisma and it seemed like it would be hard for them to burst out of their shells but when they were on stage it was an entirely different concept. what was practiced was performed with natural execution and what was improvised was received and reciprocated with comfortable chemistry. her greeting made him smile, the trademarked words of hers followed up with his own casual introduction that he’d adjusted to since joining the MGA’s. “hey, i’m vernon.” they interchanged as they spoke about the song, a smile rising to his eyes as he spoke into the microphone before they took their spots. “hopefully this gets you thinking about your first love in the best of ways.”

they circle round each other in the beginning of the choreography and each snap is achieved with practiced rhythmic accuracy. not a beat was missed. sia’s voice lifted up from behind him with their backs pressed to one another and he used the opportunity to use what his former pr agent said was one of his best assets: his face. he smiled a charming smile that colored his salted caramel hued eyes a playful happiness that when he thought of the lyrics shone just a bit brighter as he knew his own first love was right there in the room with him, the look directed back towards sia appropriately. the way the bass of the song underneath the building dance beat kept him entranced energized him and the confidence he had on stage kept him easy. he was thankful for his continued dance lessons that removed the stiffness from his moves in the little bits of choreography they’d decided to use so as the spotlight was turned over to him with a gracious smile from the lovely sia, the weighted microphone was brought to his lips to give the listeners a deep contrast to the bright lightness in sia’s voice as he had a mischievous warmth that would suck them into the bass drop.

Ay 깊은 안갯속에 난 길을 잃어가 너란 빛을 따라가 네게 닿을지 몰라 I’m falling down 끝이 없는 걸 어서 Baby 나를 깨워 줘

he kept the fun in the delivery as the entire song radiated an addictive energy, his hand coming over his cheek as though he were asleep, his eyes closing, with a light shake of his head before he opened them as though surprised, a smile beaming across his features at the cute act. not a single word was missed, his clear and audible delivery something he prided himself on with each syllable tended to in order to keep the freshness of love in each word. he gives sia the stage with an exit as though being pulled away towards her, the tug on his sleeve turning his effervescence her way with a hand naturally coming up to affectionately rest at the hair at the crown of her head as his lines begin again, bringing himself to separate away from her as he clutches his chest as though separating was driving him crazy to find his spot for the highlight of their performance.

매일 봐도 모르겠어 Baby 니가 보고 싶어 Oh crazy

as the chorus began and their voices fell into sync – a harmony they worked hard together to achieve with sia’s singing abilities coming in handy to find a tone they could fit together with his very minimal experience – they fell into the choreography that embodied the bouncy exhilaration the song was composed of, his smile sincerely one that showed his enjoyment of what he was doing. they had perfected the parts they were able to do as a craft and seamlessly transitioned the parts they were unable to do out for different moves that would instead express their overjoy. they moved together, one after the other, to form the heart they had worked into the chorus, his radiant smile tamed as the bass dropped and he sucked the audience back into his words. because every word had importance and he gave them attention to give them meaning that he could feel and that those who were feeling a really strong love could feel.

you wake me up with your mind you wake me up with your mind you wake me up with your

You wake me up with your You wake me up with your mind

I’m on your side, you’ll be my sign 조금씩 빠져들 거야 더 흐릿하던 날들은 너로 선명해져 I got you now 널 보면 Lose my mind

너의 향기로 차올라 Eh 나의 맘은 벅차올라 Eh 잡은 두 손 꼭 놓지 마 Eh

he rode the bass of his rap, his body naturally bobbing to the rhythm as the mix of english and korean dispatched from him showed his deep affinity for hip-hop in the emphasis he put on the rhymes exuding a charisma that he felt in his confidence as a rapper and that was something he never doubted. but he kept it spirited to match the lively dynamic of the song, his hand coming out before him to gesture as he looked directly towards sia as though rapping to her, his smile playfully smitten and mischievous with all the tenacity in his shining caramel brown eyes of a man 100% sure of the woman that he wanted. he dropped the mic as he looked at her, her lines taking over his eyes on her forming deep set crescents as she hit her notes as though he were proud, his eyes still set on her even as he delivered his next lines, lightly taking her hand for the second line before breaking free from her again to find his position for the chorus once more.

매일 봐도 모르겠어 Baby 니가 보고 싶어 Oh crazy

you wake me up with your mind you wake me up with your mind you wake me up with your

You wake me up with your You wake me up with your mind

their choreography for the chorus burst through refreshingly once more, his adlibs in the back filled with energy as he released a happy ‘whoo’ and ‘come on’ in the empty space between their synchronized lines until they were made to come together once again, their heads coming to rest together instead of a heart to end off the song. her finger hearts go up and his hands form a circle over his mouth that he bites into a heart, the exhilaration of the stage still very strong for him even as he bows before they take their exit.

for all of the doubts that he had going into the stage, he performed at his utmost confident state, allowing himself to really feel the song and get into it while syncing with his partner to create a fun, playful and innocent stage depicting all the wonders of a first love. the entire time all he could think about was yeji. he’d performed it with her in his heart and he hoped that she could feel it and he hoped that everybody who watched could feel their love in their hearts too.

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam Austin episode 2 reaction

I’m already sad that we probably won’t get a scene of them dancing horribly

Clip 1 - Smoothie talk

I just want to point out that while Meg is checking out Grace online, there’s a drawing on her wall behind her that says MAKE OUT. This is clearly foreshadowing. I proclaim it from the mountaintop.

This is a nice discussion of random crap when you have more important things to talk about. But also an illustration of how they’re not on the same page at all. Now he's mocking something else she likes (meglovessmoothies), kicking her when she's down.

Lol, I’m being hard on this kid. Him dissing smoothies is hardly the least of his crimes. But you exclude her so much, dude! She has no one to do the stuff she likes with her and he left her to do talent night alone. 

What I took away from this scene is a craving for a smoothie.

Clip 2 - Call me

It’s a pretty big cultural jump from Noora naming herself after a Twin Peaks character to Grace naming herself after a Dumb and Dumber character.

I think this was a good way to incorporate social media into the clip itself. It’s one of those interactions with a weirdly specific social connotation. The comment being deleted is more suspicious than if it had remained up.

I've seen people speculate why Abby would bother posting on his IG publicly. Maybe because she wanted Meg to see it? Or she really couldn’t get in touch with him any other way.

Clip 3 - Sad girl

It definitely sounds like Tyler said “Abby.” He says “Oh shit” afterwards as if her realized his mistake. Plus he decided to go to the vending machine and Marlon went along, maybe so they could talk about what just happened.

Usually Skam doesn't all-out twist what's happening, what we hear and see if what’s really occurring. Like with Isak hearing Even’s voice while buying his depressing cheese toastie, he's legit hearing a guy who sounds like Even, he didn’t imagine it.

Shay is a bad but adorable liar. 

And she seems flirty as hell and I hope I’m not just projecting.

I like how direct and kind Grace is. No Megan messing up with H and inappropriate slut jokes. Some of the characters are on the rude side (us Americans, am I right) and Grace was just sweet, and Megan got her message right when she needed a pick-me-up. Also, no sweating for days over whether Grace will follow her back!

Clip 4 - Chemistry

He's reading The Great Gatsby while Meg reads The Scarlet Letter. Any significance, since they’re going hard with The Scarlet Letter?

“We have chemistry together, you know that.” Yes, we do know that, Marlon. That’s why Meg is worried.

Marlon is such a liar, he can't keep his story straight. 

“If you were in my chemistry class I would be texting you non-stop” lol I know he didn’t mean it this way but that has some connotations in light of your current situation, bro.

Clip 5 - Girl Squad together

This is a low standard but I do love how realistic and down go earth all their clothes are. 

Kelsey’s red upper lip legit made me laugh. At first I thought she'd been drinking fruit punch.

Jo and Kelsey are ride or die BFFs, I love it.

Kelsey looking scandalized when Grace doesn't know what a Kitten is then her “bless your heart, no wonder you’re so lost!” when she learns Grace is new, tells you all you need to know about her priorities. Also I’ve never heard one of those Southern “bless your heart”s in the wild before, I feel like I’ve spotted a rhino.

Meg: “Who am I?” THEME.

Regarding the formation of a dance team, I have some questions/concerns as to how they would handle that. If it were just a recreational team that’s one thing, but if they can get out of P.E., as Jo says, then it’ll have to be school-recognized, and I’m sure that comes with a lot of rules that you wouldn’t have if you just want to dance for fun. My school required only one year of P.E. for students (thank Goddddd) but you didn’t get out of it even if you were on one of the school sports teams, so I don’t know quite how it works. I had some friends from other schools who joined their schools’ athletic teams as a replacement for P.E., but these were all well-established teams. If Kelsey’s team gets recognized by the school, do they have to agree to a particular schedule? Dance competitions? Performances at school functions and games? So many questions. 

Grace, a dance team is a hell of a lot to commit to just to show up an Islamophobe. I mean props to the sentiment but you’re probably going to have to like ... dance, and work out, and get up early and stay after school and stuff.

I also don’t think a dance team is something she can sit out as much as Noora could be whatever about the bus, especially if there’s a 5-person minimum for the team. Grace has to be all in or she’s out.

Is Zoya going to turn out to be an amazing dancer? Did she audition for the Kittens, or did she not bother because she figured she wouldn’t make it? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a dress code that prevented her from wearing her hijab in performance. 

Clip 6 - Losers club

All right, so I kinda loved this clip and kinda hated it.

But boy did I feel bad for Kelsey in this one, in a way that I’ve never felt for any of the Vildes! Because Kelsey was doing more or less what I, a nerd, would be doing if I attempted to form a dance team. Jumping the gun a LOT with reserving yearbook space, but meeting with the principal, planning to raise money, and researching dance routines, all of that is what you should be thinking about. You know … putting together a team.

Kelsey: “I already have the agenda already...:” IDK if it’s scripted or improvised but I’m oddly into them capturing that kind of redundant language that I hear from a lot of teenagers. And well, adults.

Kelsey not even answering Grace’s question about the need for an alternative dance team. She just has an endgame and she’s going to stick to it, gosh darn it.

“Share some of that Kitten secret sauce with us” I’m not going to make a NSFW joke. I’m not.

Actually, what a blast would Jo/Shay be.

I guess what I wonder is why Zoya wants in on a nobody dance team unless she really loves to dance. Like are they ever going to show them dancing? Practicing?

Yeah, going off the earlier point, I feel really bad for Kelsey because she seems like she seriously wants to be on the dance team - maybe just for popularity/social reasons, because she seems to have a very high opinion of the Kittens. But if she’s tried out five times, she’s been practicing for weeks beforehand, and she’s throwing herself into creating a dance group of her own, that also sounds like someone who wants to dance because she enjoys it and not just to boost her social standing. 

And with that in mind, although I enjoyed a lot of Zoya’s dialogue, the fact that she stepped in with her suggestion to hook up with guys made me sad for Kelsey in a way that I haven’t felt for Vilde in any other version of this scene. Because russ/parties do have a social element involved that’s at least relevant to getting guys to like you. Druck has an established school party that the girls get assigned to and they just start going out as a crew. Skam Italia did away with the organized squad altogether and just had the girls start hanging out, somewhat formed around getting Silvia a date. But if I really wanted to form a dance team, I didn’t plan on having to hook up with dudes. That’s not a purely social organization, that’s an athletic/artistic/competitive one. 

“My plan is to work really hard on our routines” Kelsey :(

Lol somehow I think working hard on their routines will go over better with the principal compared to hooking up with football players.

Zoya says that “you guys” will have to get with the dudes because she won’t, but she includes Kelsey in this, soooo I guess Kelsey is not supposed to be that conservative of a Christian? Or will that not come up?

Jo immediately planning blackmail as a way to get the Kittens to join them - lol, this is the kind of character I enjoy, I love her.

Zoya: “If you didn’t want to be seen as a sexual object, you’d shave your head, stop wearing makeup and start wearing looser clothes.” Grace: “I wear these things for me, not for guys.” Zoya: “Well then I find it very convenient that the things you wear for you are the exact same things that a heterosexual man in America finds attractive.”

OK, that was a completely new bit of dialogue and that was something that got my attention. Because that’s good. Zoya and Grace, as the two most likely feminists of the group, having opposing takes on beauty culture. I saw people objecting to Zoya’s perspective but she’s neither 100% right or 100% wrong. Women have personal choice and preferences to style themselves how they want, including dressing with themselves in mind rather than men, but you can’t divorce that from the larger societal ideals of how women are supposed to look. I make the choice to shave my legs and no one is forcing me to do it, but I also didn’t wake up one day and form this completely independent idea that no one had done before; I had a societal norm to give me the idea. And a lot of beauty standards on women are enforced by patriarchy. It’s a really difficult conversation to have because you’re dealing with the individual (Grace saying she wears these things for herself) versus the collective (Zoya saying it’s not an accident what she chooses for herself also happens to be societally acceptable). Everyone at that table is making their own choices, but within a larger system that sets precedents and ideals. But there are also a lot of assumptions that Zoya is making, such as whether Grace is interested in heterosexual men; Grace could be a lesbian for all she knows. Not to mention that Grace is wearing an average sweater and not much makeup, so it is a leap to think she wants to be seen as a sexual object. All of the girls seem very casually dressed, in fact, and Zoya is wearing as much eyeshadow as any of them, so what’s the difference? Can Zoya say she’s wearing eyeshadow for herself, but the others can’t? To me it’s less whether Zoya is completely right and more about the fact that the ideas were introduced at all.

That’s my rambling way of saying I liked that exchange. 

Julie repeating the same camera angle with Sana/Zoya’s back surrounded by her court … sighhhhhhh come on.

General comments:

I guess what’s really frustrating is that there is so much rich material here in the setup that they could spin into new scenes and stories, but I’m not sure if they’re going to do it. Like … we should get them actually trying to dance! I want to see shitty dance montages! I want to see Grace being over it and Jo goofing around and Kelsey trying her best and Zoya defying everyone’s expectations and Meg becoming a crucial part of the team with her experience, finding some purpose and joy again! Let’s talk about clashes between Kelsey and Zoya over the uniforms, let’s talk about the first time they try to perform publicly and it’s a mess (actually let’s not, I would expire from secondhand embarrassment.) Give me all of that dance team drama, played realistically.

But also stuff like Kelsey’s religion and how that plays into the plot (like how DOES she feel about being asked to hook up with guys), how her being a Christian and Zoya being a Muslim should yield both some common ground and some huge differences. 

I’m sort of getting the same feeling I had in S4 of Skam where there was so much incredibly rich material to develop, but instead they went with stuff that was much less interesting.

The profanity filter on the FB videos is SO DUMB. There is a mature content warning at the start of every clip. Why do they have to bleep out the swear words? 

I get the sense that a lot of the new viewers on Facebook don’t know what to do about the texts and IGs. 

Marlon’s text about going to see Avengers makes it sound like the movie just came out, which is probably because the movie was supposed to be released that day (May 4) and was pushed up to April 27. Which I get but part of me’s kinda like, you could have revised that to sound a little more fitting to the date. I feel like Marlon would probably not going to wait a week to see Infinity War. 

Also Marlon has overtaken Giovanni from Skam Italia as my least favorite Jonas. He’s not the devil or anything but I definitely don’t want him and Meg together.

Jo and Shay continue to be my faves. They really should have scenes together at some point. Share one of those long candies, Lady and the Tramp-style.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Be A Better Beat

I love the Beat Generation.

Too young to be exposed to the real thing first hand, I encountered them as a child via beatnik characters on TV shows and cartoon.

Hold that thought for a second:   What I was seeing were caricatures (i.e., actors in costumes performing from scripts written by non-beatniks) of people (i.e., real life beatniks) imitating a generation of poets / writers / artists / musicians who flared to life almost a decade before I was born.

And yet somehow that connected with me.

The signal -- even for young pre-school Buzzy boy -- penetrated the noise.

Who were the Beats and what was the Beat Generation?

Answer to second question first:  The Beat Generation was three guys (or four, or five, depending on who’s telling the story) who hung out together and smoked and drank and talked about life and art and meaning…it was jazz musicians meeting in nameless unlicensed after hours dive joints to jam and improvise and try to figure out what the hell it was that they weren’t finding in their regular club gigs…it was artists glaring at a freshly finished canvas and slashing it to ribbons saying, “No!  No!  Not this!  Not this!”…it was dancers and film makers and people who didn’t know exactly what it was that they were trying to find, only knowing what they were finding in the world around them wasn’t it.

What did it mean to be “beat”?

Again, that depends on who’s telling the story -- and when.

The earliest version of the naming says “beat” came from street slang of the era:  “I’m beat” as in wore out / exhausted / broke / without hope / defeated / empty / at wit’s end.

Later -- much later -- this was ret-conned into “beatitude”.

As in the Sermon On The Mount, as in angelic, as in satori.

There’s a little bit of fact in that, a little bit of fiction, but a big dollop of truth.

Read the Sermon On The Mount. 

That’s the gospel of people who have been battered down and marginalized by the culture around them.

Beat -- but not beaten.

That first generation was comprised of people who didn’t know exactly what it was they were looking for, but they knew the culture around them was not providing the answer.

That culture exhausted them, jabbering at them in what might as well have been High Martian, demanding obeisance to insane idols and ideals.  The ///original/// Beats were not meant for this world, and in their quest to find their rightful place, left a paper trail that provided a map for millions to follow.

Mind you, that was not entirely a good thing…

Going back to our first question, who were these Beats? 

Ground Zero was three men who pretty much defined the movement, indeed, who put the movement in motion.

The holy -- and yet simultaneously unholy -- trinity of Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs.

This post was spurred by the recent spate of revelations and accusations against preachers, performers, and politicians.

Those accusations raise a compelling question:  Can we learn from terribly flawed human beings, or do their flaws negate their message?

Look at that first generation of Beats.  They were not a bunch of choir boys (or girls; females are terribly underrepresented in the history of the Beat Generation, but they were there, they were there).

Indeed, that first generation of Beats includes drunks and druggies, abusers and adulterers, frauds, thieves, at least one full blown sociopath, and two bona fide murderers.

You have to reach all the way back to the Renaissance to find another equally hard-living / hard-loving / hard-drinking crew that transformed their society with angelic visions.

Because for all the havoc the Beats wreaked in their personal lives, they did transform the culture around them.

The Beats begat the Beat Generation; and the Beat Generation begat the beatniks; and the beatniks begat the hippies; and the hippies begat the counter-culture.

At the counter-culture is still with us, marginalized, ignored, pushed aside, but still there.

What the Beats did was to give voice to those who felt that whatever it is they were looking for, this ain’t it.

And that’s a small but crucial distinction between the Beats and the aforementioned preachers, performers, and politicians.

Because those aforementioned preachers, performers, and politicians set themselves up as moral exemplars.

The Beats -- the original Beats and the first generation they spawned -- did not.

Rather, they cast themselves as seekers of truth, albeit more than willing to take diversions into hedonism and self-gratification.

That hedonism and self-gratification is what too many people gleaned from the antics of the beatniks and the hippies, a faux philosophy extolling the pursuit or pleasure instead of the enjoyment of life.

Too often whatever spiritual and philosophical truths the first Beats pursued were not merely overlooked but completely ignored by people who wanted the imitate the highs but not the depths of the Beat Generation.

People looking for a good time, not a good life.

Take inspiration from the good, avoid the damaging.

We are entering a dark time, a time in which the forces of greed and hate work hand in hand to turn us against one another, to strip us of our individuality and humanity, to count us as worthless except for what they can extract from us.

We are entering a dark time, and anyone who claims to have The Answers is one of the forces aligned against us.

People are stumbling about in the dark, alone and afraid.

There need to be a few of us out there with lanterns.

 © Buzz Dixon

poster from TheBeatMuseum.org 

[innermissionpro]

REVEREND VERONICA TALKS ABOUT CHURCH

Veronica Burgess is a theater graduate of SDSU.  She has worked with Playwrights Project, Teatro Izcalli, The Old Globe, Circle Circle Dot Dot, Amigos Del Rep, and looks forward to working with InnerMission again.  You can find her performing on many different stages in San Diego, from theater to improv, to standup comedy. I am very proud to be sharing the stage with this cast, and am grateful to InnerMission for the opportunity.  Some of my favorite rolls have been, with butter.

Tell us about yourself…

I'm originally from Tijuana, Mexico. I started 2nd grade here without speaking English.

I was a late comer to theater, as I had never been in a play, before declaring Theater as my major when I transferred to SDSU. Once I got a taste of the stage and began to learn more and explore different types of theater, I declared "Performance" as my emphasis.  Go figure!

When I got out of college, I didn't do much auditioning or performing, until I found "Improv". Improvisational Theater suddenly became a love I didn't know I had. This led to exploring stand-up comedy, which I also love, and didn't realize I would.  Since I was a little girl, comedy has always been a love.  I admire great talents such as Lucille Ball, Carole Burnett, John Ritter, and the ever-still entertaining Steve Martin & Martin Short.

It feels good to be working on something a little more serious, than always looking for the laugh.  I had missed being on the theatrical stage. Yay.

What interested you about "CHURCH"?

To be honest, working with InnerMission was the first appeal.  I always enjoy the work they produce. And, you can bet it will be something with depth and heart.  With that said, once I learned more about the script, I was very intrigued.  I knew this would be a challenge, but also an opportunity to question my own view points.

How are you preparing for this production? Tell us about your rehearsal process...

There has been a lot of talking, a lot of sharing and exploring of ideas.  There has been a lot of sharing of experiences and reflecting on our own relationship with religion.  Every day has been a learning experience, and an adventure. I have been trying to find my own relationship with the words of my character.  Truly thinking of how much of myself is in her, and how much of her I allow into me. As some of the script suggests, we are all a little part of one another.

The rehearsals have also come with their challenges.  My dancing skills aren't exactly up to Solid Gold Dancer status (am I dating myself?), but I'm giving it my best, and this kid's got heart!

Why CHURCH?

Growing up, I was raised Catholic, though we weren't weekly church goers.  The basics were implemented, baptism, communion, always cross yourself when you pass a church... but I was not told constantly that I would go to Hell.

I consider myself more spiritual, than anything.  So, the idea that "church" can be whatever represents a "holy place" to you resonates with me.  For some, it's the gym, book club, theater, and yes, even actual church.  I love the idea of exploring what it can mean to everyone.  Because in the end, to me, it really makes no difference who or where or how you worship. If you have faith, you have heart. If you have heart, you have compassion. And if you have compassion, then there is kindness.  Having started performing at a later age, it took me time to discover theater is like church to me, too.  It feeds my soul. For some, that's what Jesus does. Amen.

[ethanalter]

Five Things We Learned at the 'Reservoir Dogs' Tribeca Film Festival Reunion

Steve Buscemi, Michael Madsen, Quentin Tarantino, Harvey Keitel, and Tim Roth at Tribeca Film Festival (Credit: Deadline)

The Reservoir Dogs had their day at the Tribeca Film Festival‘s 25th anniversary screening of Quentin Tarantino‘s blistering 1992 debut feature. All the surviving members of Joe Cabot’s doomed crew of diamond thieves — Mr. White (Harvey Keitel), Mr. Orange (Tim Roth), Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi), Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen), and Mr. Brown (Tarantino) — reunited on the stage of New York’s famed Beacon Theater. (Cabot himself, sadly, wasn’t in attendance as his alter ego, veteran character actor Lawrence Tierney, passed away in 2002. Other fallen Dogs include Edward Bunker and Chris Penn, who died in 2005 and 2006, respectively.) With the ever-loquacious Tarantino holding court, the cast and their director reminisced about a movie that’s been a pop culture mainstay for two decades and counting. Here are five things we learned about Reservoir Dogs straight from the mouths of the men who made it.

Mr. White Could Have Been Mr. Blonde Thanks to a series of only-in-Hollywood connections, Tarantino managed to get his script into Keitel’s hands in the hopes that the Mean Streets star would agree to play veteran crook Larry Dimmick, a.k.a. Mr. White. And while Keitel responded to that role, he also thought it would be a blast to play psychopathic ex-con, Vic Vega, a.k.a. Mr. Blonde, a part eventually played by his Thelma & Louise co-star Madsen. “I liked that part, but I didn’t think I could play it,” Keitel admitted during the panel. According to Tarantino, Keitel wasn’t the only actor who contemplated switching roles. For example, Madsen thought he’d better suited to Buscemi’s part as the sarcastic Mr. Pink. “I read all of Mr. Pink’s scenes,” Madsen said. “Quentin let me do it even though I was already Mr. Blonde. I thought I did a great job, but Quentin looked at me and said, ‘You’re not Mr. Pink, you’re Mr. Blonde.'” Meanwhile, Tarantino almost replaced himself as Mr. Brown with… Tom Waits? “I had Tom Waits come in and read the Madonna speech just so I could hear him read it!”

The cast of ‘Reservoir Dogs’ (Photo by: Mary Evans/Ronald Grant/Everett Collection)

The Ear Scene Freaked Out a Master of Horror Reservoir Dogs isn’t technically a horror movie, but the scene where Vic Vega separates LAPD officer Marvin Nash (Kirk Baltz) from his ear almost inspires bigger screams than anything in Scream… as Wes Craven himself found out. While touring film festivals with Dogs, Tarantino found himself presenting the film at a horror festival that was also screening Peter Jackson’s notorious bloodbath, Dead Alive. “‘Finally, I’ve got an audience that won’t walk out,'” the director remembered thinking at the time. Walkouts had been an issue for the movie since its world premiere at the 1992 Sundance Film Festival, with viewers inevitably leaving in droves when Vega provides Nash with some impromptu, and involuntary, ear reduction surgery. Even at a horror festival, that moment turned some stomachs, generating five walkouts, including, it turned out, Craven, who had been in the audience. “The guy who did The Last House on the Left walked out!” Tarantino marveled.

Madsen’s No Killer (or Dancer) Slicing an ear off of a cop wasn’t a dealbreaker for Madsen when he landed the part of Mr. Blonde. But Tarantino discovered the actor’s limits during a rehearsal session of the infamous torture scene. “I played the cop and improvised the line, ‘I have a little kid at home,'” the director said. “Michael had just had his son, so that f—d him up! He was like, ‘I won’t f—king do it if he’s got a kid.'” In the finished film, of course, Nash does plead for his life by mentioning his child, so Madsen managed to leap over that particular hurdle. But up until the very last moment, he wasn’t sure if he could pull off one very specific thing that the script asked him to do: dance. “In the script, it said, ‘Mr. Blonde maniacally dances around,'” Madsen revealed. “I kept thinking, ‘What the f–k does that mean?'” The actor had managed to avoid dancing throughout rehearsals, but finally had to face the music when it came time to shoot the sequence. “Quentin played the song [“Stuck in the Middle With You”] on set; that was the first time [I heard it]. The music started and I was like, ‘Oh f–k, I’ve got to do something!’ We filmed it three times, and that was it.”

Quentin Tarantino at the ‘Reservoir Dogs’ L.A. Premiere on October 9, 1992 (Photo: BEI/Shutterstock)

The Sundance Premiere Inspired Howls… of Frustration When Reservoir Dogs was first unleashed upon Sundance in January 1992, it caused quite a stir…but not because of what was happening onscreen. “The first screening was a disaster,” Tarantino said, rattling off the list of technical snafus that almost doomed his movie. “They didn’t have a Scope lens for the projector, and it’s a Scope movie, so it looked like copper all the way through. That would be bad enough, but then it gets to the climax where everyone’s yelling at each other and all of a sudden the lights come up! They bring the lights down again, and then everyone has their guns pointed at everyone else. Right at the height of that scene, there’s a power outage! I went, ‘OK, this is what it’s like to watch your movie in public.'”

Steve Buscemi, Harvey Keitel in ‘Reservoir Dogs’ (Photo: Rex)

Tarantino Wanted to Reach the Grindhouse and the Art House Reservoir Dogs was made during an era when video stores still existed and were filled with dime a dozen direct-to-VHS crime pictures. As a former video shelf jockey himself, Tarantino wanted to ensure that his movie avoided that fate. “I didn’t want Reservoir Dogs to be a straight-to-video genre movie. I wanted it to be a genre-based art film like Blood Simple.” One way he accomplished that was by casting British actor Tim Roth, who had recently appeared in two art-house hits, Vincent & Theo and Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. “He was a budding art film superstar, so I knew when critics would review [Reservoir Dogs] they would have seen Vincent & Theo and talk about the art film aspect of [my film].” For his part, Roth originally suspected that Dogs would meet the same fate as those art house movies: lots of critical acclaim, but not a big audience—a trajectory that the film has definitely avoided for the past 25 years. “Those films you put in your back pocket and carry through life,” he said. “Reservoir Dogs was actually a shift in my life.”

Read more from Yahoo Movies:

Reservoir Dogs at 25: A Look Back at Tarantino’s Bloody Sundance Debut

Watch ABC News interview the cast at Tribeca:

[chryseis]

Unsung

Fandom: Deltora Quest Summary: As peace settles upon Deltora, Marilen is tasked with recording the life of Anna of Del. Pre-canon, mid-canon, post-canon. Characters: Marilen, Anna, Jasmine, Lief, Sharn, Doom, Barda. Pairings: Jarred/Anna, Lief/Jasmine Notes: I was working on a Jasmine-and-Doom prompt, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Anna. So, here is a non-linear story with several stories bundled up inside it. AO3. FFN. 

-- The hour was late, and her hand was sore, but Marilen did not stop her work. Words seemed to pour from her mind and onto the page. The steady breathing from Josef’s crib grounded her as she wrote. She had known that becoming the palace librarian would be a great task, and that recording in the Annals would be part of her life’s work. And she knew that some stories were of more importance than others, even if they did not outwardly appear to be so.

She took a moment to look upon the beautiful face of her sleeping son. She preferred to work with Josef in the room. After such a long time of war and death, it was hard to focus without knowing her son was safe. Losing him was unimaginable. But that was why the Annals were important to her; so she could record the stories that she might never truly understand. She turned the pages to the beginning of the particular account, and looked at the section title written in her own flourishing script:

Anna of Del

Four people who Marilen loved had approached her to request that she commemorate this woman into the Annals. She had spoken with them many times; listened to their stories, and she had taken pages of notes. Although she had never met the woman, and she never would, Marilen felt a connection to Anna that was as fine and lovely as Toran thread.

With a sigh, she set her pen down and shook out her hand. Researching a figure who was not widely known was a strange task. Her head was awash with little facts and stories and the emotions of the people who loved Anna enough to wish to see her immortalized seemed to always linger.

It had been Jasmine, of course,  who had come to her first.

—

The celebration had gone late into the night, and into the early morning, too. But, yet, all of Deltora seemed to crowd the palace hill— laughing and drinking and dancing— to celebrate the marriage of their beloved king to one of their favourite heroes. Marilen had begun to tire, and wondered if it was time to follow Ranesh, who had brought Josef to bed. But before she could start towards the palace, Jasmine grasped her hands and pulled her back into the dancing crowd.

The new queen had abandoned her shoes somewhere, and her lovely green dress was streaked with dirt. She was an impressively poor dancer, but Marilen happily allowed herself to be led by Jasmine’s improvised steps.

They twirled—laughing— by Lief, who was dancing with a ring of children whose parents had disregarded proper bedtimes to celebrate the historic event. Marilen beamed and called his name, and Lief looked up. He was grinning with delirious happiness, and held out out his hand for Jasmine to join him.

“In a moment,” she called to him, letting go of Marilen briefly, so that she could trail her fingers across her husband’s hand.

“The whole kingdom has come for you!” Marilen shouted over the music and crowd, as they allowed themselves to get lost among the people. Many of the dancers toasted and called Jasmine’s name as they went past.

“So it would seem,” Jasmine said. Her eyes flickered over Marilen’s face. “But there are some people who should be here and cannot.”

Marilen realized that Jasmine had led them to the edge of the crowd. She let go of her friend’s hand, and gently touched her shoulder. Jasmine looked up; her smile was still bright, but there was a sadness in her eyes that had not been there before.

“I wonder if I could ask you a favour,” Jasmine continued. “I want to be sure that my mother is never forgotten. I will tell you all about her, another day, if you promise to write it down.”

Marilen looked deep into her friend’s searching gaze. “I would be honoured. I swear it.”

—

Jasmine was not pleased. She had been building a tower of sticks and leaves, but Mamma had made her stop and told her to climb up into the treehouse, even though it would not be dark for ages. Still, she allowed her mother to guide her onto her cot.

“It was going to be so tall, Mamma,” Jasmine complained. “I was going to put my doll inside and—“

“Jasmine, listen to me,” Mamma cut her off quickly. Jasmine stopped, and her eyes widened. Mamma never interrupted, and she always had a smile and a game ready to play. But she was scared, Jasmine realized, and that frightened her, too. “Listen, sweetheart, I have some things to tell you.”

“Where is Papa?” Jasmine looked around wildly; the house was quite large, but it was clear that her father was not at home.

“He will be back soon, but I must speak to you. Will you promise to be good and listen?”

Mamma’s face was so unusually serious, that Jasmine could not help but nod solemnly.

“Good,” she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Someday, Jasmine, we might have to be very quiet, and pretend that we do not live here.”

Jasmine was confused and it made her anxious. “Why would we have to pretend?”

Mamma shook her head, unwilling or unable to explain. “It is just the way of the world.”

Jasmine looked at her mother’s face, searching for some sort of trick or game, but could find nothing. “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing right now, but I must show you something,” Mamma paused for a moment to ensure that Jasmine was watching. “If I do this,” she pointed her smallest finger up, and dragged it under her eye, “it means that Papa and I want you to run away as fast as you can. Do you understand?”

Jasmine nodded, although she was not sure that she did.

“If I do this,” Mamma bobbed her chin against her chest, “I want you to hide yourself away.”

Jasmine could not help the bubble of laughter that burst forth; Mamma looked very silly.

“Jasmine, this is important,” Mamma pleaded, and made her practise both of the stupid gestures until Jasmine insisted on going to sleep, mostly out of boredom.

Later that night, she awoke to voices from her parents’ cot. Papa must have come home. Jasmine kept her eyes shut, and listened.

“I have never seen them this close,” Mamma whispered. Jasmine heard the shift of bodies on the cot.

“Nor have I, they always stay on the trail,” Papa was very bad at whispering, and she could hear him clearly. “I followed them as best I could, but I did not get far.”

“I did not tell Jasmine. I did not know how to try. But I made up signals for her to follow, if the Guards come near again. I do not think she understands.”

“We ask so much of her,” Papa’s voice shook, and Jasmine could not help but open her eyes a little, but she could see nothing through the darkness. “This is not a proper life for a child.”

“We always knew it would be hard, my love,” Mamma said in her firm and gentle way. “Jasmine is strong, and we will keep her save.”

She heard the sound of rustling blankets as her parents settled in for the night. Jasmine’s eyes closed of their own will, and she felt herself being pulled down into sleep. Still, she pictured the signals in her head. She did not know why, but it was clearly important that she remember them.

And so she would.

—

Marilen had been walking to her office one evening, when Sharn had found her in the hall.

“Marilen,” Sharn said warmly. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course,” Marilen followed Sharn to a window seat. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Sharn looked down through the window, at the city below. “I wanted to congratulate you on your successes in the library. I knew you would be well-suited for it.”

“Thank you,” Marilen was touched, she held Sharn’s opinion in the highest regard.

“As you add to the Annals, I wonder if there is someone you might keep in mind.”

Marilen looked out the window, but whatever Sharn saw was clearly a memory from long ago.

“There was a woman… I met her only once,” Sharn said quietly. “But I wore her name and clothing, and slept in her bed for seventeen years. I am alive only because of her.”

—

Leaving Endon and Jarred, Anna had pulled Sharn into the bedroom. Sharn looked around in a daze; the room was smaller even than the palace closets. Anna guided her into a chair in front of a mirror, and pressed a damp washcloth into her hand.

“We must make you look the part,” Anna said. She stood behind Sharn and began to unravel the complex decorative thread in her hair. “You will have to alter my clothes, eventually, you are much taller than I am.”

Sharn washed her face roughly, as if scrubbing it raw would erase some of the horror of the night. She stared into the mirror as Anna continued to work at her hair. Looking at her bare-faced reflection was like seeing a stranger. She wondered dully if any of her friends and family had survived the slaughter. Surely not. She thought of Prandine’s thin scream as he fell to his death.

I hope it hurt, she thought viciously.  

Anna had nearly finished with her hair, and it tumbled down Sharn’s shoulders. Guilt stabbed at Sharn’s heart as she thought again of their plan. “You are much kinder than we deserve.”

“Nonsense,” Anna said lightly, although she could not disguise the slight tremor in her voice. “Jarred has waited seven years for Endon to call upon him. I knew this.”

“Are you not afraid?”

“Take my hand,” Anna insisted, and knelt beside her. Confused, Sharn did as she was told. Anna’s palms and fingertips were rough and hard against Sharn’s smooth and soft skin. The other woman smiled wryly. “Blacksmith’s hands. There is no cream or salve in Deltora that would soften them. And I would not wish for that. Because of the callouses, I never need to fear that my hands will fail me, and so I do not falter in my work. I am terrified, Sharn. For my neighbours, for myself, for my husband, for my child. For you. But I must put my faith into something. So I will put it into hope. My hands guide me when I work in the Forge, and I will trust hope to guide me tonight.”

Sharn clasped her other hand on top of Anna’s. “You have proved your bravery tonight. As have I, I think.”

“Yes,” Anna embraced Sharn quickly. “We shall stay brave, for each other. And we will meet again as friends in kinder days, I know it.”

—

Marilen had been expecting a third request, but she had not expected it to be from Lief. They had taken their breakfast in the palace kitchen. Although it was usually a bustling place, especially in the morning, it had only been the two of them. Lief had been eating in a strange silence, which was rarer still.

“Are you alright?” Marilen finally asked, annoyed by the staring contest Lief seemed to be having with his eggs.

Lief looked up, alarmed, as if he had forgotten she was there. “Have… have you heard of Anna of the Forge?” He asked by way of an answer.

Marilen raised her eyebrows. “It is a name that keeps finding its way to me.”

Lief paused. “When you write about the night of the Shadowlord’s invasion… I would be very pleased if you would mention her name.”

—

Jasmine cried out, and approached a thicket of leaves covered in nasty spines. The plant was studded with large round berries: some were pale lavender in colour, and others were a wicked scarlet. She lifted the front of her shirt to form a basket, and began to gather fruit, taking care to avoid the thorns.

Lief and Barda exchanged an anxious glance. They trusted Jasmine’s instincts, but they did not trust the evil appearance of the berries.

“We will find food elsewhere,” Barda decided. “These look as if they have been waiting for our arrival, and not with good intentions.”

“It is trying to trick you, but not the way you believe,” Jasmine insisted eagerly without looking away from her task. “The purple ones are poison, but the red are perfectly fine.”

The more Lief stared at the berries, the more they appeared like droplets of blood clinging to the leaves. “How do you know?”

“These plants grow in the Forests, too,” Jasmine held a berry up to her collarbone, and Filli’s tiny paws reached to grab it from under her jacket. “My mother solved the trick. The foxes would always eat from the bushes, and they would leave the purple ones behind. She saw a sparrow eat the purple ones, and it died.” She shrugged, and slipped a berry between her lips. “She called them fox berries.”

Barda laughed and knelt at her side. “Once again, it seems a debt is owed to Anna of Del.”

The fierce grin that Jasmine gifted him in return was as bright and beautiful as a star.

It was true, Lief thought, as he joined his friends on the ground. She saved my life before I was even born.

The three of them gathered the berries, but Lief kept his eyes on Jasmine’s pleased face. He watched her closely, and when she caught him staring, he did not look away. She reached into the folds of her shirt and handed him a berry. Lief took it and bit down. The skin was tough, but the inside was pleasant and tart. He smiled his thanks.

Jasmine reached over and tapped his bottom lip with her finger. “Your teeth are already stained red.”

Lief reached over and stole a second. “It is worth it.”

—

Marilen had been expecting the knock on her office door. Feeling oddly sheepish, she hastily covered her project with a stack of books.

“Please, come in,” Marilen urged, and began to clear papers off of the extra chair. Doom opened the door with a tight-lipped smile, and took the offered seat. Marilen took her own chair and waited.

She had wondered when he would come. She knew he would, and so she had not approached him. The time was right: the people of Deltora had found a reason to celebrate once more. A new heir had been born, and she had been given a name that was well suited for a future queen.

“My wife deserves a place in the Annals,” he told her bluntly.

“I know,” Marilen agreed. “You are not the first person to tell me.”

Doom snorted. “Jasmine?”

“And Sharn, and Lief.”

Doom’s face betrayed nothing, but Marilen swore she saw a flash of surprise in his eyes. She hesitated as she assessed how to begin. She cared deeply for Doom, but was not always sure as to best speak with him.

“Will you tell me about her?” She asked hesitantly.

Doom stared ahead for a long time. “Yes. Yes I will.”

Marilen looked at the papers on her desk. She did not want him to know she had started, she did not think it would be a worthy read until it was finished.

—

Jarred lay flat on his back with nothing to do but stare at the treetops and pray that his wife returned soon.

If I die here, it could be that I have deserved it, he thought dryly.

How stupid he had been, allowing himself to be stung by the Wenn. He had survived in the Forests for more than five years, and if he died it would be because he had simply not been paying attention.

Finally, hurried footsteps came down the path. He heard his name whispered fiercely, and suddenly, Anna was there with Jasmine balanced on her hip. She set Jasmine down, and threw herself to her knees.

“Mamma, is Papa going to die?” Jasmine whimpered.

“No, we are going to heal him. But hush, sweetheart, we must be quiet,” Anna whispered, pressing a quick kiss to Jasmine’s brow. She leaned over Jarred and pressed a second kiss to his lips. “Do not make me lie to her.”

Jarred forced a smile and felt the dry skin on his lips crack. “Come here, Jasmine,” he said. “Hold my hand, so that we may be brave together.”

Jasmine rushed to his side. He could not tell if she had taken his hand, but she kept her wide eyes on his face, as if he would die if she looked away. Anna was fumbling with a jar she had pulled from her pocket on his other side.

“I do not know if this will work,” Anna’s face was pale, but her lips were pressed in a determined line. She tilted his head up, and the foul-smelling liquid to trickle down his throat. Jarred made himself to swallow, and almost wished that he had not. Pain began to spread through his body. His skin felt as if it had caught fire, and his blood seemed to boil in his veins. He gritted his teeth and moaned, forcing himself to muffle his screams. Anna covered his mouth with one hand, and gripped his shoulder with her other. Her face was twisted with anguish. The pain swelled, but Jarred realized that he could feel his daughter’s hand clasping his, and his wife’s hands on his body. It was enough to carry him through.

Later, as they lay in their cot, Anna had caressed his face with her hands.

“I feared that I had killed you,” she confessed with shame.

Jarred let out a startled laugh, for nothing could have been farther than the truth. “No, dear heart,” he kissed her cheek. “You saved me, like you always do.”

—

Marilen had listened to so many accounts of Anna’s life. Doom and Jasmine had brought her so many stories, and Lief and Sharn had shared their second hand accounts. (She loved to sing, but her talents lay elsewhere… Did Doom tell you how she once made burrowroot soup? We spent the night washing out our mouths… There was a romance novel at her bedside that had clearly been well-read… Jasmine swears she could pull a coin out of your ear…) Anna had been a clever and brave woman, whose life might easily be forgotten: she had never led the Resistance like her husband or saved the kingdom from destruction like her daughter. But she had saved the lives of at least five people, and ensured that Deltora had set forth on its path to freedom.

She looked back at her writing. Sleep could wait, this was more important.

“My people broke a vow once,” Marilen whispered to the silent room. “And you suffered for it. I am one of the many who owes you a debt. I will make sure your stories are heard.”

No one was truly dead while there were people to remember their names.

Marilen would ensure that Anna of Del lived forever.

[footballleague0]

Golf — Tony Finau’s road from fire-knife dancing to the Tour Championship

ATLANTA — Even now, Gary Finau can’t explain it. He’s walking down the perfectly manicured 18th fairway at East Lake Golf Club, host of this week’s Tour Championship, where the FedEx Cup champion will receive an eight-figure paycheck and even the last-place finisher will bank a total well into the six digits while pocketing invitations into each of next year’s major championships. His son, Tony, the third-oldest of eight children who grew up in their Rose Park, Utah, home, is just a few yards away, taking a mighty lash at his golf ball toward the final green.

It’s a scene Gary has been watching for 20 years. But he still shakes his head in wonderment about how it’s all unfolded.

“This is the sport that we used to talk about like, if you ever see me at a golf course, shoot me,” he says with a gregarious laugh. “Why would anybody go chase a little white ball into a hole? So we stayed far away. We thought playing golf was like going to your grave.”

The story of how he became the first golf instructor to a player who is now 28, ranked 53rd in the world and will embark on his first Masters appearance in April is one that sounds even too far-fetched for a Hollywood script.

Gary grew up in Tonga, playing rugby, cricket and football. When he immigrated to the United States at age 12, he fell in love with basketball and boxing. As Tony explains, “Golf in the Polynesian culture was just so out of the zone. Nobody plays golf. Everybody thought only girls or old rich white men play that sport.” It became part of their lives less by choice than happenstance.

The first tournament Tony recalls watching with his brother Gipper, who’s 11 months younger, was the 1997 Masters. A baby-faced Tiger Woods eviscerated the field that week, and the two boys in the hardscrabble neighborhood just northwest of Salt Lake City were among the millions who took notice.

“To see him do what he did, I could relate to him,” Tony says. “Obviously how exciting he was, but someone with a bit of color playing this game. That’s when I was like, maybe I can play golf. If he can do it, so can I.”

Within a few months, Tony’s mother, Ravena, implored Gary to find a hobby with the boys. The rationale was twofold: There would be critical father-son bonding time, but it would also keep the young boys out of the neighborhood and out of the trouble that always lurked there.

They offered them two nontraditional options: Golf or tennis. Still starry-eyed from watching Tiger, they chose the latter. That wasn’t the entire reason, though. The boys figured if they got good enough to play in tournaments, they could make their dad play caddie. The insidious thought of watching Gary lug a bag of clubs around a golf course was enough to cinch their decision.

So off they went to Jordan River, a par-3 facility where the first hole was 160 yards and none were longer. Gary would bark instructions despite his limited initiation into the game.

“He was still learning the game like we were,” Tony recalls. “Looking back, he was blindly teaching us to play golf.”

That was true, but he did know math.

“I used to drive them every day after school to the football field,” says Gary. “Stop there so they could see all their friends — 400 or 500 kids practicing Pop Warner football. I said, ‘Where is everybody?’ They’d say, ‘Right here.’ Then we’d drive up to the golf course. I’d say, ‘Who’s here?’ They’d say, ‘Nobody.’ I’d tell them, ‘Exactly. Your percentage to make it in golf is way better, boys. There’s no competition here. So let’s practice.'”

And they did, nearly every day, for hours on end. Gary was the coach, Ravena was the motivator, the one who constantly assured them that they could accomplish anything.

The family didn’t have the financial means to afford daily rounds of golf, so Gary improvised. Knowing it didn’t cost anything to use the chipping and putting area, he’d collect old range balls and the boys would practice until sundown.

In three full seasons on the PGA Tour, Tony Finau has made at least $1.8 million each year. Heading into the 2016-17 season finale, he’s at $2.55 million and counting. Minas Panagiotakis/Getty Images

Soon enough, the pro at Jordan River took notice of their work ethic. He offered up the course, free of charge, whenever they wanted. The boys took advantage, often playing two or three rounds each day after school.

They became really good, really fast.

Soon they started to travel the country to play tournaments. Gary worked a night shift for Delta Airlines, so airfare wasn’t a problem. To assuage the cost of hotels and rental cars, the boys took a part-time job.

Fire-knife dancing is popular in the Polynesian culture. It’s exactly what it sounds like, with knives attached to the ends of sticks, covered in material set aflame, all while being furiously spun around by a performer. They’d been practicing the art since they could walk — and Tony, especially, was extraordinarily talented. Named after his mother’s brother, who was a world-class fire-knife dancer, Tony entered junior competitions and would regularly defeat much older, more experienced kids.

“It’s second nature to me, just like riding a bike,” he explains. “I pick up a stick and I can still spin it pretty well.”

Some kids had paper routes. The Finau boys would hold fundraisers, luaus and parties during which they would perform fire-knife dances and might collect a few hundred dollars to help alleviate the travel expenses at tournaments.

It opened up a whole new world outside of Rose Park. They didn’t just compete against some of the world’s best young golfers, they got to know them. At Doral one year, they befriended a boy from Northern Ireland named Rory McIlroy, who would later spend time in Utah with them during the summer months.

When he was 12, Tony won the Junior World Championships in San Diego for his age division. He still considers that a major turning point in bridging the gap between golf as a hobby and as a potential career.

“I looked at the banners and saw the names — Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Ernie Els, all these guys,” he remembers. “Then I saw my name. I said, ‘Why not me? I can make it, too.’ That really motivated me on another level. I started thinking, I can take this really seriously and accomplish some big things in this game.”

Fast-forward to today and Tony has already accomplished some big things. Last season, he won his first PGA Tour title at the Puerto Rico Open. This season, he’s compiled seven top-10s in 28 starts, including a nerve-wracking share of seventh place at last week’s BMW Championship.

Following a disappointing conclusion to his third round, Tony was outside the projected top-30 to advance to the season finale. The next day, he chipped in for birdie on the final hole to post a 7-under 64 and reach the field at East Lake, a victory in itself because of the impending perks it guarantees.

“It was really a special round on Sunday, kind of an 11th hour thing to get in,” he says. “I knew what I had to do and to make it happen was pretty cool. Something I’ll remember for the rest of my career, for sure.”

It’s a career that will undoubtedly include much more success for a guy with a growing reputation as one of the game’s most gifted players. None other than three-time major champion Jordan Spieth says of him, “Tony Finau is an unbelievably talented player who’s probably going to win, I think, dozens of times out here. He is really, really good and very underrated, in my opinion.”

It wasn’t all so easy. He didn’t transition from learning the game at Jordan River to winning junior tournaments to competing in the Tour Championship without a heaping dose of strife.

On Nov. 27, 2011, Ravena died in a car accident. The mother who had been so influential as a positive presence in her children’s lives was returning from a wedding in California when she was killed near the small town of Elko, Nevada.

Tony was 22 at the time, a professional for five years already, but still learning the game while toiling on the mini-tours. “It was very personal for him,” Gary says. “Out of all the kids, he was mommy’s boy.” One day after Ravena’s death, Tony and girlfriend Alayna — now his wife — welcomed their first son, Jraice. Within months, while still mourning and living in a small apartment with his growing family, Tony developed a stomach ulcer.

“Since she passed away, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her,” he says. “Now that I’m a parent myself, I understand what my parents went through and what they sacrificed, just to put me in this position. I think she’d be proud if she was here and could see me accomplish some of the things I’ve accomplished. I think she’d be really proud.”

Which caddies get FedEx Cup playoff bonuses? And what’s the talk about Rory McIlroy’s looper situation? This week’s anonymous caddie at the Tour Championship goes in-depth on a multitude of topics.

There’s nothing wrong with East Lake Golf Club or Atlanta (home base of the tournament’s main sponsors), but the season-ending Tour Championship would be an even bigger deal if wasn’t anchored to one location.

Not everyone agrees that the PGA Tour’s season finale, the Tour Championship, needs an overhaul or even a few tweaks. But if the tour did make some changes, what might they be?

2 Related

There is no specific blueprint for how — or why, or when — a professional golfer will springboard into the next echelon. There is no singular determinant for a player shifting his game into an extra gear and becoming one of the world’s best.

It’s not all about intangibles, though. By reaching the Tour Championship field for the first time, Finau will own the luxury of being able to set his schedule for the upcoming season. He’ll be immediately qualified into each of the game’s biggest tournaments, at least offering the opportunity of making that leap.

“One of the major goals this season was to get into the Tour Championship, because of the perks,” says his longtime instructor, Boyd Summerhays. “But it’s not just the perks, it’s the next step in his career. The way he’s playing, that’s where he’s been trying to base his game. He wants to win a major championship — and you can’t win it if you’re not in it.”

Of the 30 competitors in this week’s field, Finau is the lone player who this week earned his maiden voyage down Magnolia Lane next April. He’s been invited to watch the Masters Tournament before; he’s been invited to play Augusta National. But he’s turned the offers down every time, instead explaining that he doesn’t want to walk in the footsteps of Tiger Woods from that first tournament he’d ever watched 20 years ago until he could take a similar journey.

“I have goosebumps,” he admits, “just thinking about it.”

As for Gary, the man who knew nothing about the game when he first took his boys to Jordan River, which now exists as only a disc-golf course, he struggles to describe how he’ll feel making that drive with Tony, arriving at Augusta National with his son an invited participant.

“The experience of realizing that you can bend down and kiss that ground …” he says, his voice trailing off into the late-afternoon sun. “This is real. You got here. It’s possible.”

He thinks back to those early days. There were no other Polynesian fathers — not in Rose Park, at least — who saw golf as a future for their sons. No others who saw it as an escape from the troubles in their neighborhood to a more indulgent lifestyle.

“We don’t fit any mold of why we’re here, why we’re playing this game,” he explains. “It’s not that easy. He’s first-generation. I had no interest in the game. That’s what I think about. How the heck did this happen? I don’t even know how we did it.”

The post Golf — Tony Finau’s road from fire-knife dancing to the Tour Championship appeared first on Daily Star Sports.

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[giantsfootball0]

Golf — Tony Finau’s road from fire-knife dancing to the Tour Championship

ATLANTA — Even now, Gary Finau can’t explain it. He’s walking down the perfectly manicured 18th fairway at East Lake Golf Club, host of this week’s Tour Championship, where the FedEx Cup champion will receive an eight-figure paycheck and even the last-place finisher will bank a total well into the six digits while pocketing invitations into each of next year’s major championships. His son, Tony, the third-oldest of eight children who grew up in their Rose Park, Utah, home, is just a few yards away, taking a mighty lash at his golf ball toward the final green.

It’s a scene Gary has been watching for 20 years. But he still shakes his head in wonderment about how it’s all unfolded.

“This is the sport that we used to talk about like, if you ever see me at a golf course, shoot me,” he says with a gregarious laugh. “Why would anybody go chase a little white ball into a hole? So we stayed far away. We thought playing golf was like going to your grave.”

The story of how he became the first golf instructor to a player who is now 28, ranked 53rd in the world and will embark on his first Masters appearance in April is one that sounds even too far-fetched for a Hollywood script.

Gary grew up in Tonga, playing rugby, cricket and football. When he immigrated to the United States at age 12, he fell in love with basketball and boxing. As Tony explains, “Golf in the Polynesian culture was just so out of the zone. Nobody plays golf. Everybody thought only girls or old rich white men play that sport.” It became part of their lives less by choice than happenstance.

The first tournament Tony recalls watching with his brother Gipper, who’s 11 months younger, was the 1997 Masters. A baby-faced Tiger Woods eviscerated the field that week, and the two boys in the hardscrabble neighborhood just northwest of Salt Lake City were among the millions who took notice.

“To see him do what he did, I could relate to him,” Tony says. “Obviously how exciting he was, but someone with a bit of color playing this game. That’s when I was like, maybe I can play golf. If he can do it, so can I.”

Within a few months, Tony’s mother, Ravena, implored Gary to find a hobby with the boys. The rationale was twofold: There would be critical father-son bonding time, but it would also keep the young boys out of the neighborhood and out of the trouble that always lurked there.

They offered them two nontraditional options: Golf or tennis. Still starry-eyed from watching Tiger, they chose the latter. That wasn’t the entire reason, though. The boys figured if they got good enough to play in tournaments, they could make their dad play caddie. The insidious thought of watching Gary lug a bag of clubs around a golf course was enough to cinch their decision.

So off they went to Jordan River, a par-3 facility where the first hole was 160 yards and none were longer. Gary would bark instructions despite his limited initiation into the game.

“He was still learning the game like we were,” Tony recalls. “Looking back, he was blindly teaching us to play golf.”

That was true, but he did know math.

“I used to drive them every day after school to the football field,” says Gary. “Stop there so they could see all their friends — 400 or 500 kids practicing Pop Warner football. I said, ‘Where is everybody?’ They’d say, ‘Right here.’ Then we’d drive up to the golf course. I’d say, ‘Who’s here?’ They’d say, ‘Nobody.’ I’d tell them, ‘Exactly. Your percentage to make it in golf is way better, boys. There’s no competition here. So let’s practice.‘”

And they did, nearly every day, for hours on end. Gary was the coach, Ravena was the motivator, the one who constantly assured them that they could accomplish anything.

The family didn’t have the financial means to afford daily rounds of golf, so Gary improvised. Knowing it didn’t cost anything to use the chipping and putting area, he’d collect old range balls and the boys would practice until sundown.

In three full seasons on the PGA Tour, Tony Finau has made at least $1.8 million each year. Heading into the 2016-17 season finale, he’s at $2.55 million and counting. Minas Panagiotakis/Getty Images

Soon enough, the pro at Jordan River took notice of their work ethic. He offered up the course, free of charge, whenever they wanted. The boys took advantage, often playing two or three rounds each day after school.

They became really good, really fast.

Soon they started to travel the country to play tournaments. Gary worked a night shift for Delta Airlines, so airfare wasn’t a problem. To assuage the cost of hotels and rental cars, the boys took a part-time job.

Fire-knife dancing is popular in the Polynesian culture. It’s exactly what it sounds like, with knives attached to the ends of sticks, covered in material set aflame, all while being furiously spun around by a performer. They’d been practicing the art since they could walk — and Tony, especially, was extraordinarily talented. Named after his mother’s brother, who was a world-class fire-knife dancer, Tony entered junior competitions and would regularly defeat much older, more experienced kids.

“It’s second nature to me, just like riding a bike,” he explains. “I pick up a stick and I can still spin it pretty well.”

Some kids had paper routes. The Finau boys would hold fundraisers, luaus and parties during which they would perform fire-knife dances and might collect a few hundred dollars to help alleviate the travel expenses at tournaments.

It opened up a whole new world outside of Rose Park. They didn’t just compete against some of the world’s best young golfers, they got to know them. At Doral one year, they befriended a boy from Northern Ireland named Rory McIlroy, who would later spend time in Utah with them during the summer months.

When he was 12, Tony won the Junior World Championships in San Diego for his age division. He still considers that a major turning point in bridging the gap between golf as a hobby and as a potential career.

“I looked at the banners and saw the names — Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Ernie Els, all these guys,” he remembers. “Then I saw my name. I said, ‘Why not me? I can make it, too.’ That really motivated me on another level. I started thinking, I can take this really seriously and accomplish some big things in this game.”

Fast-forward to today and Tony has already accomplished some big things. Last season, he won his first PGA Tour title at the Puerto Rico Open. This season, he’s compiled seven top-10s in 28 starts, including a nerve-wracking share of seventh place at last week’s BMW Championship.

Following a disappointing conclusion to his third round, Tony was outside the projected top-30 to advance to the season finale. The next day, he chipped in for birdie on the final hole to post a 7-under 64 and reach the field at East Lake, a victory in itself because of the impending perks it guarantees.

“It was really a special round on Sunday, kind of an 11th hour thing to get in,” he says. “I knew what I had to do and to make it happen was pretty cool. Something I’ll remember for the rest of my career, for sure.”

It’s a career that will undoubtedly include much more success for a guy with a growing reputation as one of the game’s most gifted players. None other than three-time major champion Jordan Spieth says of him, “Tony Finau is an unbelievably talented player who’s probably going to win, I think, dozens of times out here. He is really, really good and very underrated, in my opinion.”

It wasn’t all so easy. He didn’t transition from learning the game at Jordan River to winning junior tournaments to competing in the Tour Championship without a heaping dose of strife.

On Nov. 27, 2011, Ravena died in a car accident. The mother who had been so influential as a positive presence in her children’s lives was returning from a wedding in California when she was killed near the small town of Elko, Nevada.

Tony was 22 at the time, a professional for five years already, but still learning the game while toiling on the mini-tours. “It was very personal for him,” Gary says. “Out of all the kids, he was mommy’s boy.” One day after Ravena’s death, Tony and girlfriend Alayna — now his wife — welcomed their first son, Jraice. Within months, while still mourning and living in a small apartment with his growing family, Tony developed a stomach ulcer.

“Since she passed away, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her,” he says. “Now that I’m a parent myself, I understand what my parents went through and what they sacrificed, just to put me in this position. I think she’d be proud if she was here and could see me accomplish some of the things I’ve accomplished. I think she’d be really proud.”

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There’s nothing wrong with East Lake Golf Club or Atlanta (home base of the tournament’s main sponsors), but the season-ending Tour Championship would be an even bigger deal if wasn’t anchored to one location.

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2 Related

There is no specific blueprint for how — or why, or when — a professional golfer will springboard into the next echelon. There is no singular determinant for a player shifting his game into an extra gear and becoming one of the world’s best.

It’s not all about intangibles, though. By reaching the Tour Championship field for the first time, Finau will own the luxury of being able to set his schedule for the upcoming season. He’ll be immediately qualified into each of the game’s biggest tournaments, at least offering the opportunity of making that leap.

“One of the major goals this season was to get into the Tour Championship, because of the perks,” says his longtime instructor, Boyd Summerhays. “But it’s not just the perks, it’s the next step in his career. The way he’s playing, that’s where he’s been trying to base his game. He wants to win a major championship — and you can’t win it if you’re not in it.”

Of the 30 competitors in this week’s field, Finau is the lone player who this week earned his maiden voyage down Magnolia Lane next April. He’s been invited to watch the Masters Tournament before; he’s been invited to play Augusta National. But he’s turned the offers down every time, instead explaining that he doesn’t want to walk in the footsteps of Tiger Woods from that first tournament he’d ever watched 20 years ago until he could take a similar journey.

“I have goosebumps,” he admits, “just thinking about it.”

As for Gary, the man who knew nothing about the game when he first took his boys to Jordan River, which now exists as only a disc-golf course, he struggles to describe how he’ll feel making that drive with Tony, arriving at Augusta National with his son an invited participant.

“The experience of realizing that you can bend down and kiss that ground …” he says, his voice trailing off into the late-afternoon sun. “This is real. You got here. It’s possible.”

He thinks back to those early days. There were no other Polynesian fathers — not in Rose Park, at least — who saw golf as a future for their sons. No others who saw it as an escape from the troubles in their neighborhood to a more indulgent lifestyle.

“We don’t fit any mold of why we’re here, why we’re playing this game,” he explains. “It’s not that easy. He’s first-generation. I had no interest in the game. That’s what I think about. How the heck did this happen? I don’t even know how we did it.”

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