On the Lessons of Marcus Aemilius Scaurus.

 

Curmie couldn’t find an image of MAS,
so here’s a picture of his theatre

Curmie isn’t sure why he started thinking about our title character of late.  Maybe it’s because of two different Dan Sullivans running for Senate from Alaska.  If so, it would be because the most famous Marcus Aemilius Scaurus isn’t the one Curmie wants to talk about.  Our guy is the son of his better known father of the same name.  But it’s Marcus the Younger (hereafter, MAS) who is the Godfather of money in politics.  So that could be it, too… and it’s what this piece is about.

You should not, Gentle Reader, feel the slightest embarrassment if you’ve never heard of MAS (or his dad, for that matter).  Curmie knows about him only because he’s a theatre historian.  Our source is Pliny the Elder, who was, shall we say, not a fan.

MAS became aedile in 58 BCE.  That job, a sort of combination of city manager and public works supervisor, carried considerable power but no salary, so it was restricted to those rich enough to be able to hold that position without pay.  Pliny declares that MAS’s “aedileship may perhaps have done more than anything to undermine morality, and whose powerful ascendancy may have been a more mischievous achievement on the part of his stepfather Sulla than the killing by proscription of so many thousands of people.”

Nope, not a fan.  But here’s the relevant part:

As aedile he constructed the greatest of all the works ever made by man, a work that surpassed not merely those erected for a limited period but even those intended to last forever.  This was his theatre, which had a stage arranged in three stories with 360 columns…. The lowest story of the stage was of marble, and the middle one of glass (an extravagance unparalleled even in later times), while the top story was made of gilded planks.  The columns of the lowest story were… each 38 feet high.  The bronze statues in the spaces between the columns numbered 3,000….

As for the auditorium, it accommodated 80,000…. The rest of the equipment, with dresses of cloth of gold, scene paintings and other properties was on so lavish a scale that when the surplus knick-knacks that could be put to ordinary use were taken to Scaurus' villa at Tusculum and the villa itself set on fire and burnt down by the indignant servants [most translations say “slaves”], the loss was estimated at 30,000,000 sesterces.

OK, but how much is a sesterce?  Well, obviously, we can’t translate directly, but what Curmie has been able to piece together is that a daily wage was about three sesterces, perhaps a little less.  So, the props, wall hangings, and assorted tchotchkes were worth about 10,000,000 times the daily wage of an average Roman.  In other words, it would take that everyday citizen over 27,000 years to earn just the cost of the non-structural stuff, even working seven days a week.  That doesn’t count the marble, glass, gilded wood, etc., or, indeed, the labor costs associated with building the theatre.

This, by the way, was for a space that was apparently used for only a few days.  The first permanent theatre in Rome was constructed three years later by Pompey the Great.  Why would MAS spend that kind of money on a temporary structure?  Well, apparently for two reasons, both ultimately boiling down to this: because he could. 

There’s conspicuous consumption, a variation on the theme of the arrogance associated with wealth.  Today’s equivalent would be “The problem is that for $5,000, the most you’ll be able to buy [at Mar-a-Lago] is a hamburger and maybe a small dessert.”  It’s the other argument that’s more interesting: the implicit if not explicit argument that anyone that rich would be unbribable and therefore more likely to work for the benefit of the citizenry rather than of special interests. 

Who knows?  That might even have been true in ancient Rome.  Even in this country, folks named Vanderbilt and Stanford founded universities—real ones, not like Oral Roberts or Liberty.  Even the Koch brothers didn’t concentrate wholly on right-wing politics; they also funded medical research, supported cultural institutions, and otherwise did things that actually helped someone other than themselves.

The new wave, though, the Trump/Musk/Ramaswamy/Bezos clique, are quite willing to accept bribes, and have seldom if ever done anything other than attempt to further enrich themselves... or, if they were feeling particularly charitable, their families, their cronies, and occasionally their sycophantic followers, although this last group is always hastily discarded when they are no longer useful.  In this way, 21st-century rich folks are not quite the same as ol’ MAS, who at least gave the people a nice theatre space for a few days while strutting his affluence.

They’re remarkably similar to MAS, though, in that they believe that money ought to be a primary influence in determining who has political power.  Whether it should be or not, it damned sure is.  For better or worse (mostly the latter), money is indeed a major influence.  MAS was indeed elected as praetor (a step up from aedile) after his publicity stunt.  (No, correlation doesn’t necessarily mean causation, but…) 

Back in 2010, SCOTUS proclaimed, in what is undoubtedly the worst decision in Curmie’s lifetime, that money is somehow speech (no, that’s not what “money talks” means) in the Citizens United case.  Thus, whereas there’s a limit ($3500 at present: still a fair amount of money in Curmie’s world) on how much an individual can donate to a political candidate’s campaign, there are two loopholes: candidates can spend as much of their own money as they choose, thereby giving a significant advantage to the billionaire class, and contributions to Super PACs are unlimited.

Thus, Elon Musk can spend $446 million (so far) to buy the midterm elections.  TNo, those PACs technically can’t work directly with a candidate’s campaign, but if you really think, Gentle Reader, that all those often mendacious ads about what an awful person James Talarico is aren’t de facto encouraging you to vote for the utterly despicable Ken Paxton, then your 6th grade diploma ought to be revoked.  Curmie doesn’t care if the official buy comes from the Pedophile Protectors of America or whoever instead of Paxton’s campaign per se.  

The use of PAC money also helps to explain why so many ads are negative.  If you can’t say “vote for X,” all that’s left is “don’t vote for Y,” and there’s a helluva lot more money to do the latter than the former.

But, as we did with Rome, let’s look at that cost figure in context.  The median household income in the US in 2025 was $87,460.  In other words, it would take that family roughly 5100 years to make as much money as a South African-born asshat who almost certainly was in the country illegally back in the ‘90s has already spent just on this year’s elections.  In what universe is this an intelligent system instead of one designed to keep the billionaire class in power at the expense of the rest of us?

Of course, the most direct assault on that particular part of the status quo comes in the form of California’s Proposition 40, which would tax the assets of billionaires.  Whether this is a good idea or not in either political or pragmatic terms is open for debate.  What isn’t is that a one-time 5% tax on a billion dollars would have literally no appreciable effect on the day-to-day life of the folks footing the bill were the measure to pass (it almost certainly won’t, by the way).  The idea that someone might have to struggle by on a mere $950,000,000 (at least!) in assets does not send shivers up Curmie’s spine.  He’s pretty sure those folks could still afford to Supersize their Big Mac combo meal if they wanted to.

Looked at a different way: there’s been over $140,000,000 spent on the campaign to defeat this referendum.  That’s a fair amount of money in Curmie’s neighborhood, and he suspects that it is in yours, too, Gentle Reader.  Even if all that money came from a single billionaire worth “only” a single billion, that poor, destitute creature would somehow have to make do on a mere $860 million, or roughly what the median family would take almost 10,000 years to accumulate even if they had literally no expenses.  Curmie’s heart bleeds for them.

This is where Curmie calls upon the time-honored modifiers aligned with arguments that begin with the words “not all…”  There are some exceptions to "billionaires are assholes": Melinda Gates and Taylor Swift both get a pass, for example.  One suspects a handful of others ought to, as well.  But not the majority. Those folks adopted most of the Marcus Aemilius Scaurus playbook… all but the actually providing literally anything in return part.  Curmie does not advocate eating the rich, however.  They’d be put to much better use as fertilizer, along with the other kinds of shit.

Censorial Asshat Series: "Little Shop of Horrors" (#4 of 4)

Ana Mota addresses the GPISD School Board

And we move on to the last (please, Almighty Dionysus, let this be the last!) story of this semester about high school theatre censorship by people who think a director telling an actor to move further (stage) left is promoting socialism.  This one bats clean-up because it is the most egregiously inane of all the censorial decisions this fall. 

Anyway, the production of the well-known musical Little Shop of Horrors at South Grand Prairie High School in Texas was canceled earlier this month.  Curmie learned about it from Chris Peterson’s post on the OnStage Blog on October 11.  He references an Instagram post by Ana Mota (exactly when that was posted, Curmie can’t say, but it was after the 6th and before the 11th).

So, let’s let Ms. Mota tell the story (slightly edited):

On October 1st, 2026, I earned the role of Seymour [the male lead] in our school musical, Little Shop of Horrors.  I had the same opportunity as everyone else did and was ultimately decided to be the best fit for the role.

On Tuesday, October 6th, I was informed that I will no longer be allowed to portray this role due to a decision made by the district and its legal team concerning Senate Bill 12.  For those unaware. SB12 prohibits sexually oriented performances on public property in the presence of anyone under 18….

This would be a good time to invoke the oft-repeated advice of Popehat’s Ken White: that educational institutions shouldn’t hire their lawyers from the back of a bait shop.

Okay, back to Ms. Mota:

In the end, their compromise was to change the musical altogether…. The district… decided to take extreme caution, removing me from the role.  In turn, they violated Title 9; I was excluded from participation in an educational program receiving Federal financial assistance because I am female.

Well, a couple of things: First, Mota wasn’t excluded from participation; she was offered to share the female lead, Audrey, with the girl originally cast in the role, Criselle Zamarripa.  Secondly,  Curmie isn’t a lawyer, so he has no opinion on the validity of a Title 9 case (but see below). 

But Mota’s calling attention to the district’s actions is particularly noteworthy.  Even if we were to accept the dubious proposition that it’s somehow inappropriate to have Mota play Seymour even though the director thought she’d be the best performer for the role, we’re left with problems.  If the district really thought they had a case, they’d just move forward, with erstwhile understudy Adam Portales moving into the role of Seymour.  Ana Mota could share the role of Audrey with  Zamarripa… or not.  That would be her decision.

Instead, the powers that be petulantly scrapped the show altogether, thereby stripping the entire cast of their opportunities to appear in the musical.  Sure, they can re-audition and hope to be cast in the substitute show, Frozen.  But the roles are different: it’s certainly likely that the leads in Little Shop would be cast in Frozen, but not necessarily in major roles.  And some, we might reasonably suspect, wouldn’t be interested in doing that show, because they don’t like the show or they’ve become disillusioned by the process, or, well, whatever.

Changing the play for no discernible reason also presents the possibility that the problem wasn’t really that a girl was going to play Seymour, but that the show was Little Shop.  Indeed, the Broadway World article cites the District’s official statement:

In the musical, a romantic relationship develops between the two main characters. When District leadership learned of this issue and in consideration of themes in the musical involving an abusive relationship, a decision was made to pull that production and find something more appropriate. This decision was made in light of the District’s ongoing effort to ensure its programs remain consistent with Senate Bill 12 and all applicable law.

Even apart from the self-righteous inanity of this statement, it does, of course, pre-suppose that no one in “District leadership” has ever seen Little Shop on stage or screen, and that a musical that has been performed on literally thousands of high school stages across the country is somehow problematic.  There are, as of this writing, over 180 licensed productions of the show in the works.  It’s difficult to determine how many of these are high school productions: many are listed by the name of the venue, for example, but at least 75 can be clearly identified as school or youth theatres.  The latest Playbill listing Curmie can find of the most popular shows in high schools across the country is from four years ago; Little Shop ranks fourth among full-length musicals. 

Side note: when Curmie’s Beloved Spouse directed the musical in small-town Iowa thirty-something years ago, there was some parent who protested that the show was anti-Christian or something because of Audrey II, the plant that feeds on human blood.  There’s always someone.  Some school administrators are smart enough to ignore the noise.  Some, not all.

Before we go any further, Gentle Reader, let’s be clear about one point in particular.  Cross-casting has been a part of theatre since its origins.  Antigone, Helen, and Athena were originally played by male actors.  So were Juliet, Gertrude, and Rosalind.  This last is of course particularly interesting.  When Curmie posted a link on his personal page to one of Howard Sherman’s pieces about the brouhaha at GPISD, a dear friend from a professional organization wrote, in part, “Wonder what they’d do about ‘As You Like It.’ Let’s censor Shakespeare.” 

If you’re not Shakespeare aficionado, Gentle Reader, that’s the play in which, in the original production, a male actor played Rosalind, who then dressed as a man, Ganymede, to go off into the Forest of Arden, where she pretended to be… erm… herself to teach her beloved Orlando how to woo her: a man playing a woman playing a man playing a woman.  Importantly, no matter who plays Rosalind, that actor will be playing a character of the opposite gender at some point.

Moreover, there are a number of male characters often if not indeed usually played by women: Peter Pan, Ariel in The Tempest, and, in opera, Cherubino in Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro, to name but a few.  Curmie recently saw a college production of Into the Woods in which Jack (of beanstalk fame) was played by a woman.  Perhaps not so coincidentally, Mota has also played Jack in that show, at the same school she now attends!   One suspects that boulders did not fall from the skies nor chasms open in the earth’s crust despite the outrageousness of the casting.

Of course, especially at the high school level, there are almost always more girls than boys auditioning, and more often than not there are also more male than female roles.  Curmie has been quite open about the fact that when he first started out (most theatre folks begin as actors), if he was the fifth best guy auditioning, he’d be cast; the same level of skill would have made him the tenth-best woman… for four roles.  Filling in with girls/women who can act is generally a better strategy than using a considerably weaker actor just because he’s got the right kind of dangly bits.

Indeed, anyone who knows the first thing about educational theatre, especially at the secondary school level, understands this phenomenon.  Show Curmie a high school theatre director who says they’ve never cast a girl as a guy, and he’ll show you someone who hasn’t been around very long… or a liar.  This is one reason why the statement of support for the students by Jay Gerlach, the Executive Director of Educational Theatre Association, carries so much weight… or ought to do so:

Portraying a character whose experiences or identity differ from one’s own is fundamental to theatre education. We ask students to consider another perspective, understand another person’s motivations, and imagine a life beyond their own. Those are lessons worth teaching. A student’s portrayal of a character of another gender should not, by itself, cost that student a role or an entire company its production.

Yeah, what he said.

To be fair, Seymour isn’t exactly a walk-on or even a chorus part, nor is it traditionally a “breeches role,” but it really doesn’t matter if the actor is male or female.  Indeed, in his most recent post on the issue, Sherman writes that “the licensing house MTI [Music Theatre International] permits cross-gender casting so long as the gender of the character remains as written.”  Sometimes matters of race, gender, body type, and so on are important.  This isn’t one of those times. 

Moreover, whereas Curmie was never a star debater in high school or college, he does remember that the presumption always rests with the status quo.  Think instant replay in a football game.  Whatever the referee called is what the ruling is going to be unless there is “clear and convincing evidence” to the contrary.  That role is, or at the very least should be, Mota’s until and unless there is a demonstrable reason why it shouldn’t be,  Curmie is going to trust the director of the show to cast the production in such a way as to make for the best possible production.  But even if the arguments are only equal, she plays Seymour. 

We all initially assumed that the district’s decision was based on the anti-drag legislation from 2023.  At the board meeting of on October 15, board president Emily Liles invoked the identically named (SB12) anti-DEI bill from 2025 as the basis for Mota’s removal from the role.  Apparently there’s a law, or at least a tradition, in Texas that any bill designated SB12 must be remarkably stupid, over-broad to the extent that it is particularly susceptible to selective enforcement, and based on paranoid delusions about the presumed horrors of a just and open society.  <Sigh.>

Whether the district just wasn’t clear at the beginning, or whether they abandoned one SB12 for another when people pointed out that they really didn’t need to follow a law that was twice ruled unconstitutional is a matter of conjecture.  Well, the whole business about “a romantic relationship” in their official proclamation sure does make it sound like they’re just a gaggle of sheltered bigots, but that might conceivably not be true.

What is definitely true is that Mota challenged the board: “I ask that you look at the exact wording of Senate Bill 12 and find what is it in that bill that prevents me from portraying a male role in a theatrical context.”  Her mom, Nancy Jimenez-Mota,  also got into the act: “What part of SB 12 are you referring to?  How are you legally interpreting the law to conclude that my daughter’s role violated whichever SB 12 you are referring to?”

Particularly interesting in this regard is this reporting from PBS/NPR affiliate KERA: “Liles did not elaborate on how that law would ban Mota from playing the role….  KERA has also emailed the district asking what specific part of the law it was complying with and has not received a response.”  It sure does look like Liles didn’t respond to the demand for specifics.  Curmie strongly suspects that’s because she can’t.

And now there’s an actual Title 9 lawsuit. Mota’s mom describes the decision to move forward with the case:

I think there’s a time in which we need to stand up for the freedoms granted by the Constitution and for us, this was our time to act. These laws are created with ambiguity to keep us afraid and limited and end up being un-American by limiting our freedom of expression. Even though the alternative of inertia is more attractive and safe than the idea of speaking up, freedom was not carved from silence.

As Curmie said above, he takes no position on the legal issues.  But ethically, everyone involved in censoring this production deserves to be out of a job at the very least… and perhaps to be fed to Audrey II.

Curmie generally considers himself pretty proficient at snark, but he yields to Howard Sherman on this one.  He closes the second of his three articles on this case thusly: “Auditions have not yet been held for South Grand Prairie High’s production of Frozen. There is no word on how the school board will rule on the gender identities of the snowman Olaf or the reindeer Sven.”

Ana Mota says she’ll audition.  She’s likely to get Anna or Elsa, but it would somehow be fitting if she landed Olaf or Sven. 

Censorial Asshat Series: "She Kills Monsters." (#3 of 4)

 

Round #3 of our four-destination tour of Censorial Asshatitude takes us to Copley, Ohio, where the school’s production of Qui Nguyen’s 2011 play She Kills Monsters, was shut down early in the rehearsal process.  That cancellation was subsequently circumvented, then overturned… sort of.  We’ll get to that part in a moment.

Let’s start with the play itself.  Here’s the description on the Concord Theatricals (formerly Samuel French) webpage:

She Kills Monsters tells the story of Agnes Evans as she leaves her childhood home in Ohio following the death of her teenage sister, Tilly. When Agnes finds Tilly’s Dungeons & Dragons notebook, however, she finds herself catapulted into a journey of discovery and action-packed adventure in the imaginary world that was her sister’s refuge. In this high-octane dramatic comedy laden with homicidal fairies, nasty ogres, and 90s pop culture, acclaimed playwright Qui Nguyen offers a heart-pounding homage to the geek and warrior within us all.

Conspicuous by its absence in that description is the fact that what Agnes learns from the D&D notebook is that Tilly was apparently involved in a lesbian relationship.  This revelation, of course, accounts for both the controversy surrounding the play (this isn’t the first time the show has been censored) and, in a different way, its popularity, especially on high school and college campuses.  Curmie wasn’t initially able to determine whether the script that went into rehearsal at Copley was the original or the “Young Adventurers” version, which tones down some of the sexuality and makes Agnes a high school senior rather than the mid-20s English teacher of the original.  According to a Facebook post by parent Tiffany (TJ) Jamison, however, the script in question was indeed the YA version.

She Kills Monsters is, as noted above, extremely popular, with an average of over 100 amateur productions, most of them in educational environments, per year since it became available.  As recently as four years ago, it was tied for seventh in Playbill’s list of most-performed non-musicals in high schools.  Curmie has seen the show twice, both times at the collegiate level: a production directed by one of his former directing students and featuring a number of actors he’d previously directed, and a COVID era Zoomed production directed by a dear friend at another university. 

In many ways, Curmie is not the target audience: he’s not young or female or LGBTQ+, and he knows nothing about D&D beyond the fact that it exists, and that a couple of his friends enjoy it.  But everyone has dealt with grief, sometimes mixed with guilt.  And Curmie does remember struggling (like everyone else, presumably) with the transition from adolescence into adulthood, even if that process happened <mumblemumble> years ago.  One’s earliest romantic and sexual relationships are always both exciting and terrifying, irrespective of one’s orientation.  And whereas Curmie would never have self-described as a nerd or an outsider: let’s face it, that’s what he was.  

So, whereas She Kills Monsters might resonate a little more with one demographic than with another, there’s enough connection to everyone’s life experience that we’re ready to follow along.  The play, in Curmie’s opinion, is a good one: not brilliant, perhaps, but solid, with good opportunities for actors of different races, genders, body types, etc.  It also can be done on a very small budget, or it can stand up to a more design and tech-heavy production without getting lost in the glitz.  Its position as one of the most-produced plays in the current repertoire is not misplaced.

Ah, but those gay kids… 

The Copley production of She Kills Monsters auditioned on September 8, went into rehearsal on the 14th, and was canceled on the 16th.  If, as Superintendent Aimee Kirsch has said, the show was canceled not because of its gay themes but because the proper vetting procedure wasn't followed, the time to do that, or at least to demand a review, was as soon as auditions were announced.  If you’ve got a procedure that must be followed, then yes, it’s the Superintendent’s responsibility to check things out.  But the likelihood that Howard Sherman is correct in his assertion that “such approval process had not been applied to previous Copley Thespian shows” hovers somewhere between “beyond reasonable doubt” and “ontological certitude.” 

Curmie suggested last time out that the Superintendent in Watertown, Wisconsin was “a liar as well as an asshat.”  And now, cue Herman’s Hermits: “Second verse, same as the first.”  <Sigh.>

Oh, ever-so-coincidentally, of course, Kirsch received an email from the proverbial Concerned Parent.  The only difference this time from the plethora of previous cases is that this is apparently the parent of someone in the show, as opposed to someone who has literally no business exercising the heckler’s veto.  However much Curmie may disagree with your position, in a case like this, he supports your right to pull your kid from the production, just not to shut down the show altogether.  This person, of course, remains anonymous, but if the play goes on, as now looks likely, then either the kid will participate or the puritanical parent will be revealed.

As might be expected, students cast in the production and their parents weren’t thrilled about the cancellation.  They didn’t believe the show was shut down over a procedural matter.  The school’s most famous alumna, Carrie Coon, has a Critics Choice Award, three Primetime Emmy nominations and two Tony nominations among other accolades.  Here’s her commentary: “I find it absurd and offensive.  I just find that a wild abridgement of their First Amendment rights.”  She also contributed $1000 to a GoFundMe to find another venue for the production.  The goal was $800; well over twelve times that much was raised in very short order. 

Coon’s celebrity engagement certainly helped the cause, but it was the folks on the ground who made the strongest case.  Emily Neuheuser, the president of the school’s Thespian Society, served on the committee that chose Alice in Wonderland as a replacement show, but made it clear that she thought that process, with categories like Community Alignment, was ripe for abuse by those with an agenda.  She’s right, of course.

Howard Sherman writes that TJ Jamison led the charge for transparency and accountability, demanding “1. A public explanation of what occurred, the reasoning behind the decision, any identified mistakes and statements of support, and, 2. Transparency regarding the origin of the complaint and the process by which it was escalated so expeditiously.” She went on to ask for “specific and tangible steps to address the harm caused to students, families and the community.”

The big news, though, was that GoFundMe.   The students were in the position to begin working with the Millennial Theatre Project, a local theatre, to produce the show in their space.  But, as Howard Sherman reports, the venue they could offer has only about 5% of the seating capacity of the school’s auditorium.  Better than nothing, but…

The October 20 board meeting opened with remarks by Kirsch in which she said, “Recognizing how much the production of She Kills Monsters means to so many of our student performers I have provided the director with the facility rental paperwork so that an independent organization can lead our students in rehearsals and performances of She Kills Monsters right here on our stage, free of any facility rental charges.”

In other words, as long as the school can cravenly distance itself from responsibility, all is well.  There were other speeches at that meeting, including from three students including Neuheuser, four parents including Jamison, and an alumna, but the sound quality of those recordings make it too difficult to understand what was being said… so the quotations from Sherman on the second of his two pieces on the kerfuffle are what we have to go on.  

You’re encouraged to read Sherman’s entire account, but four things stand out in Curmie’s mind.  First is student Chad Fortin’s comment that “If the administrator had simply told the truth, the real reason of the show’s cancellation, I would at least respect its integrity in being open about the conversations. We could have had a real discussion about the issues involved. Maybe there would be no agreement, but at least it would have led to a productive dialogue. Instead, the administration chose a coward’s way out.”

Second is Neuheuser’s post-meeting recognition that mounting the production, which will apparently be added in the spring, with rehearsals overlapping with those of the musical, will require “jumping through a lot of hoops.”  The production will be headed by its original director, Amber Coughlin, who will be working as a contract employee, not a member of faculty, and who says “A lot of this will be done on volunteer time by myself and a couple other individuals.”

Another significant observation comes from parent Megan Stotter, who noted that the school’s Club America (linked to Turning Point USA) affiliate had appeared at a forum for student organizations to promote their programs.  “If the Copley administration is concerned with the community alignment of any club’s ideas, speech and activities,” she said, “then they cannot cherry pick which group is policed.”  Good point, that.

But the capstone, really, was delivered by another parent, Chad Kirkbride.  His summary: “Copley is embarrassed, and our community recognizes that censoring the arts puts this school district squarely on the wrong side of history.”

The folks on the front lines in Copley acquitted themselves admirably, in other words.  But we’re going to close with the words of the playwright, Qui Nguyen:

One good thing that’s come out of these moments is that in the aftermath, I get to hear about young artists finding incredible ways to push back, finding clever, brave, sometimes hilarious ways to tell this story anyways. I’ve always said this play has taken on a life of its own. It’s more their play now than even mine… Ultimately it’s amazing to see what fortitude, tenacity, creativity, and community can do when they’re channeled towards something good…. Battling boring people is a never-ending struggle, so don’t give up. Keep killing monsters.

Sometimes the monsters are terrifyingly humanoid.

Censorial Asshat Series: "Flashdance: The Musical." (#2 of 4)

 

We move on to the second installment of the four-part Censorial Asshat Series.  This time, we’re in Watertown, Wisconsin, where the spring show will apparently not be the previously scheduled Flashdance: The Musical.

The first thing Curmie thought when reading Howard Sherman’s article on the cancellation was, “Watertown High School in Wisconsin?  Isn’t that where they censored a piece of instrumental music last spring?”  Yes.  Yes, it is.  (Curmie wrote about that episode twice: here and here.)  There’s not a lot of respect among the educational powers-that-be in that town for faculty, students, the arts in general, or, indeed, the First Amendment.

The difference this time around is that whereas it was the school board that shut down the playing of “A Mother of a Revolution,” this time that particular herd of buffoons were only accomplices; the Censor in Charge was Interim Superintendent James Feil.  (Note: Sherman identifies Feil as “Interim”; the article he cites in the Watertown Daily Times  describes him him simply as “Superintendent.”)

OK, let’s start with the fact that questioning the appropriateness of a musical version of “Flashdance” for performance by high school kids is not at all inappropriate.  Curmie saw the movie 40-ish years ago, and remembers little except the iconic image of Jennifer Beals’s body double drenched in a dance routine that was, let’s say, clearly sexual in nature.  

But the way to find answers to those questions is to look at the script that had already been approved by Principal Jason Widiker.  Feil admits that he didn’t see the movie (that’s certainly forgivable), falsely describes it as X-rated (Sherman notes that the R-rated film “might well be considered PG-13 today”), and apparently couldn’t be bothered to do his fucking job read the musical script, either.  He claims he made his decision “after careful review.”  This makes him a liar as well as an asshat.

Prospective director Ryan Moldenhauser did what he was supposed to do: he received permission from the rights-holders to tone down or excise material that, in Sherman’s words, “wouldn’t be high school friendly.”  To make some extra money, for example, the central character “dances at night in a local bar that the script takes pains to make clear is not a strip club.”  And he submitted the altered script to the principal, as per protocol in that school.

Feil’s interference in the process, then, is certainly authoritarian.  Sherman says, “This was a case of the Interim Superintendent pulling rank and unilaterally shutting down the show, even though rules had been followed.”  It’s difficult to argue with that analysis. 

All that said, of course, it’s an odd choice: a musical that had never appeared on Broadway, was based on a popular but not especially good movie, and was a bowlderized version of material that, if Curmie remembers correctly, had little to offer except the sexiness that was now stripped out.  Curmie isn’t sure he’d go quite as far as OnStage Blog’s Chris Peterson that it was “the wrong choice for a high school,” but it isn’t a show Curmie would choose.

But there’s no arguing with Peterson’s argument that “this was the wrong way to cancel it.”  Making a decision right before auditions is, one supposes, at least better than after rehearsals have started, but it’s still bad timing.  More importantly, parent Tiffany Schultz appears to be absolutely correct in her analysis: “The evidence he got was not right.  So then he pulled something without knowing what it was and without even being willing to have a discussion about it. He simply came in and said, ‘I don’t like this and it’s done.’”

Feil’s arrogance and ineptitude are only compounded by the board’s attitude.  When parents asked that the situation be put on the agenda for the upcoming board meeting, board president Laurie Hoffman replied that the issue doesn’t rise to school board level.  Curmie asks one question: what the hell does, then? 

Board vice president Samuel Ouweneel seems to be an even bigger jackass than Hoffman, responding to a request from a student asking for the cancellation to be an agenda item with, “None of us wants to see the spring pass without a musical. If the board draws this discussion and speculation out, it will only serve to jeopardize whether or not the musical takes place at all. At this time, I do not believe it would be in the best interest of the students in the district to take that path.”  Curmie imagines Ouweneel speaking in a B-movie Mafioso voice, saying, “Nice little theatre program you got here… be a shame if you weren’t allowed to do any shows.”  Seriously, what a pompous ass!

The other variable here is that Moldenhauser says he won’t do a different show.  Whether the real reason is lack of preparation time, as he claims, or simply petulance on his part is unclear.  The same questions regarding motivations could be asked of an apparently considerable number of students who say (now) that they don’t want to be associated with a show that Feil and the board would approve, or with a show directed by anyone other than Moldenhauser. 

The bottom line, therefore, is that the school is now without either a director or a show for their spring musical slot, and with, one supposes, at least a diminished pool of student performers.  More importantly, they’re stuck with a trio of censorial asshats in leadership positions.  Feil, Hoffman, and Ouweneel evince a disturbing confluence of laziness, cowardice, and hubris, not to say stupidity.  None of them should ever be allowed within hailing distance of making educational policy.

Perhaps something might change at the forthcoming board meeting.  It’s unlikely, but even curmudgeons can dream…

Censorial Asshat Series: "The Wave." (#1 of 4)

 

Chances are, Gentle Reader, if you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you know two things about Curmie even if you’ve never as much as met him: that he’s a retired theatre professor, and that he’s very much a 1st Amendment advocate.  It’s no surprise, then, that he’s chronicled over a dozen cases of high school and college theatre productions being shut down by school administrators or other morons for, let’s just say, less than persuasive reasons.  That doesn’t count the other shows that met similar fates but which Curmie mentioned only in passing… or, of course, those that he never even heard about.

One of Curmie’s best sources for information about such cases, going back to 2014, is Howard Sherman.  His blog, now called Downstage Center, migrated to Substack back in July.  This month, Sherman has written about four (!) cancelations of high school shows.  That’s a lot, needless to say.  Curmie intends to write about all four.  He’s decided to start with what he considers the least problematic of the stories (it’s bad enough, though) and move up to progressively stupider and less excusable examples.

Anyway, writing about all four is going to take a while and make for a very long blog post, indeed… so: each story gets its own post.  Curmie has decided to start with what he considers the least problematic situation and move up to the most colossally stupid.  You are free, Gentle Reader, to disagree with either the strategy or the ordering, but we’re doing the four stories in this order: The Wave  at Grunin Performing Arts Academy in Toms River, New Jersey, then Flashdance at Watertown HS in Wisconsin, She Kills Monsters at Copley HS in Ohio, and finally Little Shop of Horrors at South Grand Prairie High School in Texas.

A good way to open this discussion is by quoting the intro to Sherman’s series:

High school theatre productions are in rehearsal across the country, so it’s unfortunately inevitable that in a few cases, school theatre censorship rears its head as well. That these incidents all arose in the run up to the annual Banned Books Week is sadly fitting, especially when there is no Banned Plays Week to draw attention to this related, but separate, example of censorship in high schools.

So, let’s talk about The Wave.  We’re leading with this one primarily because Curmie knows nothing about the show other than what appears in Sherman’s article and what can be gleaned from a change.org petition.  Curmie quotes here from the latter:

The Wave is about a real incident that happened in a highschool in 1967, adapted from a novel into a stage play. It portrays an experiment that a teacher did on his class after they learned about World War II and Nazi Germany to show how people fell for what Hitler told them and how Germans who weren't Nazis didn't notice what was going on. The Wave shows how history can repeat itself when propaganda is presented as something nice and teaches a valuable lesson in individuality and thinking for yourself even when a group of people tells you otherwise.

The play was scheduled to be performed during School Violence Awareness Week, i.e., October 19-23.  Sherman quotes from the Asbury Park Press’s Ilana Keller that Superintendent Gary L. McDonald wrote that the school wanted to “create a culture of empathy and acceptance rather than divisiveness,” and was concerned that the students involved might not “fully understand the complexities of the material they were set to perform” or “feel the weight of responsibility to perform it with the sensitivity it requires.” 

The first of these is a very odd argument, given that the play appears to be an examination of anti-Semitism and how such hate-based ideologies can take hold.  Curmie might have thought that Fascism is rather more divisive than inclusive, and that therefore critiquing such a movement isn’t really all that bad.  This is why he will never be a high school administrator.  Well, that and worries that Medicare might not cover the required lobotomy.

As for McDonald’s worries about the play being performed for younger students, the solution appears pretty damned obvious: don’t show it to them.  That’s fundamentally different from not allowing the high school kids to do the show. 

That said, the concern that the students might not grasp the implications inherent in the show isn’t completely out of line.  It’s not an overwhelmingly persuasive argument and it comes rather too late in the process, but at least it’s not screaming-into-the-night looney.  That’s why it’s the least objectionable of the quartet of closures in Curmie’s mind.

Significantly, Curmie (because he’d signed that change.org petition) received an email a few days ago that the show is back on—not for its original October slot, but “some point in June of 2027.”  A link to the petition site led to a page saying, simply, “Victory!”  Whether the 1100+ signatures on that petition mattered at all, we can’t say, but they couldn’t have hurt.  Nor could the support of the New Jersey Thespians, the state’s chapter of the Educational Theatre Association, which sponsors the International Thespian Society, which as of seven years ago had inducted 2.3 million members (including Curmie).

The rationale offered by Grunin Principal Tierney Meeker is at least superficially reasonable, a variation on what we saw a couple years ago when school officials at Cesar Chavez High School in Phoenix delayed the opening of The Laramie Project by a week “due to the need for additional time to better prepare our audience and the public for the seriousness of the play’s content.” 

A six-month delay isn’t exactly the same as a one-week delay, but the perceived need to, in this case, “provide… students with meaningful educational opportunities, historical context, and access to resources that will deepen their understanding of the Holocaust, genocide, and the circumstances that allow prejudice, authoritarianism, and blind obedience to take hold” does sound familiar… and not entirely unreasonable.

That doesn’t mean that the school acted appropriately.  Howard Sherman’s follow-up piece, posted after the administration’s partial reversal, makes a couple of significant points: that the play was already well into rehearsal, and that school officials could have said initially that they were delaying rather than scuttling the production… or even, had the re-instatement been even under consideration, that they were contemplating such an action.  While it was important to make these arguments, it’s not like Sherman was opening vast new vistas of understanding: they’re pretty obvious.

Sherman also points out, however, something that might not come immediately to mind, but is just as important: a warning against “over-preparation,” which could actually diminish the play’s impact by taking away any element of surprise.  That’s why Ron Willis, one of Curmie’s most important mentors, actively discouraged having his Intro to Theatre classes read a play before seeing it.  This preparation is first cousin to the trigger warnings that Curmie wrote about earlier this month: if you know something is coming, you’re anticipating that moment instead of going where the play and production want you to go.  

It is also rather condescending to suggest to high school kids that they can’t really understand a play based on… wait for it… a classroom exercise for high school kids.  <Sigh.>  There are problems here... not as severe as those in the upcoming posts, but bad enough.

Anyway, there’s essay #1 in our series of 4.  Watch this space!

 

It’s Déjà Vu All Over Again.

There’s major consternation in the realm of college football.  No, it’s not that Miami became #1 by squeaking by a Florida State team that had a losing record in the ACC.  At home.  In double overtime.  After two controversial calls went the Canes’ way in that second overtime.  Oh, and they haven’t played a ranked team yet.  There are, by the way, three undefeated teams—BYU (more on them in a moment), Texas Tech, and UCLA—that have a win against a ranked opponent.

Curmie is more than a little baffled, but that’s not the subject of this essay.  For the second time (actually the third: but the other one was at the FCS level) already this season, there’s a concern about when a game actually ended.  You will recall, Gentle Reader, that back on September 5, millions of viewers saw the clock go to zero while a pass was still in the air, thereby seemingly clinching a major upset for the Western Michigan Broncos over the Michigan Wolverines.  But there was a review, and some mystical clock that only the chosen few are allowed to gaze upon showed Michigan still had a second left. 

Of course, they scored on the next play, winning the game in the minds of literally no one except the referees and Michigan fans.  Even the NCAA’s Division I Football Bowl Subdivision Oversight Committee said that “instant replay protocols were not followed in the contest’s second-to-last play. Had the protocols been followed, the outcome of the game would have been different.”  They couldn’t overturn the game result, but everyone whose favorite colors are anything but maize and blue knows what happened.

Curmie wrote about the whole business on the 20th, arguing that literally everyone—both teams, the Big 10, NBC, the NCAA—lost, one way or another.  And now, for the second time in six weeks—and indeed for the second time in Curmie’s memory of over 60 years of watching college football—we have a replay by… uh… not having a replay.

This time, the game was between the #2 Notre Dame Fighting Irish and the #8 BYU Cougars.  BYU scored a touchdown with less than two minutes remaining to take the lead, 28-24, but Notre Dame was driving down the field to try to regain the lead.  They drove 67 yards to the BYU 8 with four seconds left on the clock.  Irish quarterback CJ Carr took a shotgun snap, rolled out to his right, and tried to hit Jaden Greathouse in the endzone.  The pass was incomplete, and the game was over, with the Cougars getting a big win.  Fans stormed the field, and there was great rejoicing in Provo.

There’s a problem, though.

The headline of an article by Mike Florio on the nbcsports site reads, “Notre Dame gets screwed, twice, on ‘final’ play at BYU.”  Unfortunately, that’s an accurate description.  Yes, BYU cornerback Evan Johnson got away with pretty obvious pass interference in the endzone.  And yes, there was still one second left on the clock when the pass hit the ground, as you can see in the photo above.  That’s the stadium clock in the background; ESPN’s clock shows the same thing.  If the refs get either call right, Notre Dame has one more chance.  The only question is whether it would be from the 2 yard line (if the penalty is called) or the 8 (if it isn’t).

OK, the pass interference call, or rather the lack of one, was a judgment call: pretty incompetent judgment, but judgment all the same.  There’s pressure to have the refs not interfere late in a close game when calling a penalty could have a direct effect on the outcome.  But, of course, failing to call a penalty has a similar result.  Too often, the go-to motto of “let them play” slides into, well, “let them cheat.”

The more serious concern is the clock situation, because that is absolutely objective.  And we’re not talking about some mysterious “other clock” here.  The problem is that no one even bothered to check: not the referee on the field, not the guys in the replay booth, not the folks at the Big 12 Conference official Replay Operations Center in Texas.  The ESPN announcers both thought that pass interference should have been called, but neither bothered to notice that the very replay they were showing clearly indicated that there was, or should have been, still a second remaining. 

No one asked a question about either the clock or the non-call at the post-game interview.  Even Notre Dame coach Marcus Freeman didn’t question the clock business, either, although he apparently wanted to know why there was no penalty flag.  To his credit, however, he refused to “put blame on somebody else.” 

It was, in short, a confluence of incompetence of staggering proportions.  It was “embarrassing for all officiating” and a “ridiculous miss,” as rules analyst Mike Pereira put it.  Let’s face it, if Curmie, who wanted BYU to win, ends up agreeing with the likes of Pereira and Matt Austin (both of whom he thinks are bozos) that Notre Dame got hosed, it looks pretty bad.  The Big 12 issued a statement confirming that yes, they fucked up.  (They use slightly different language.)  “The conference will conduct a complete review of its end-of-game officiating process in advance of next week's games.”  In the future, of course.  Not now.

There’s a distinct possibility, of course, that time really should have expired.  It doesn’t seem likely that Carr could wait for a shotgun snap, roll out a couple of steps, and throw the ball over 20 yards—not a “seed” or a “laser,” or any of those other metaphors for speed—and have the ball hit the ground in less than four seconds.  Perhaps the clock didn’t start on time, etc., etc.  The problem is the lack of review.  Well, and the egregious lack of a penalty call.

There will inevitably be comparisons to that game in Ann Arbor six weeks earlier.  Let’s start with differences.  First, whereas the earlier game was indeed decided by the addition of the extra second, this one only might have been.  If the pass interference had been called, Notre Dame would have had one play from the 2 yard line.  Whether they would have converted is pretty much a 50/50 proposition.  For reference, we can look at the percentage of 2-point conversions successfully completed: 45.8%.  That’s from the 3 yard line, so one might guess that the likelihood of a touchdown would go from just below even from the 3 to just above from the 2.  Had the ball been marked at the 8, the likelihood would be lower, but certainly not zero.  If Michigan can score from the 49, Notre Dame can score from the 8.

Another difference is the prospect for significance in the post-season.  Neither game was a league contest, so no one moves up or down in the conference standing depending on the outcome, but Notre Dame/BYU could have significant implications.  It’s unlikely that the Wolverines will go exactly 2-4 in their remaining games or that the Broncos will go 1-5: in other words, that the outcome of that game will affect bowl eligibility.  Michigan won’t make the playoffs, anyway, and if Western Michigan runs the table from here on out, they’re definitely going to be in consideration as the Group of 5 (there are actually six of those conferences now, but who’s counting?) representative. 

On the other hand, the voters who determine the rankings tend to be both lazy and stupid (see elevating Miami to #1 after a narrow and lucky home win against a mediocre opponent), so Notre Dame dropped five places this week for a road loss to a top-10 team they should have had one more chance to beat.  If you’re not in the SEC, two losses put you in jeopardy of dropping out of the playoffs, and three are pretty much a guarantee you’ll have to settle for the Mrs. Lovett’s Meat Pies Bowl in Duluth in late December. 

Notre Dame still has to play two ranked teams, Miami and SMU (both at home); BYU has a road game against top-10 and currently undefeated Utah and, assuming they take care of business, a Big 12 championship game.  Plus, of course, there’s the possibility of a big upset.  But there’s also the possibility of a first-round bye, the difference between playing at home or on the road, etc.

The similarities between the two games in question are concerning, however.  In both cases, the refs’ decisions benefitted the home team, which was also the team from the same conference as the refs.  The latter point in particular matters.  Yes, it’s easier to keep the home fans happy, but the possibility of pressure to help the conference’s representative is difficult to ignore.  It’s good for the Big 10 if Michigan wins; it’s good for the Big 12 if BYU wins.  (It’s also good for the ACC if their best team doesn’t lose at home to a team that very well might not qualify for the postseason at all.) 

Curmie is not suggesting malfeasance as the basis for some pretty strange calls, but phrases like “Caesar’s wife” and “appearance of impropriety” do come to mind.  Some folks on Reddit and similar sites remind us of the presence of big-money gambling and hint at a connection to game-time decisions.  Again, Curmie makes no accusations, but he does partially raise an eyebrow.

It’s certainly time the NCAA stepped in to ensure that games end neither before nor after they should.  Curmie has long believed that the NCAA is second only to the Trump administration as the perfect storm of corruption and incompetence, but they’re what we’ve got.  Perhaps they might even be interested in salvaging what remains of a reputation.