Mamet Owns Piven

ZACH:

I'll keep this short and sweet. Jeremy Piven left the Broadway show "Speed-the-Plow" written by David Mamet because of an unusually high level of Mercury in his body. With this comes a great response from Mamet.

"I talked to Jeremy on the phone, and he told me that he discovered that he had a very high level of mercury," Mamet said. "So my understanding is that he is leaving show business to pursue a career as a thermometer."

David Mamet Opines. I mean Self-Promotes. I mean Opines

HANK:

David Mamet's got two revivals opening on Broadway this fall: Speed-the-Plow (staring Entourage's Jeremy Piven, famous for playing a Hollywood agent playing a Hollywood Agent) and American Buffalo (starring Cedric the Entertainer, John Leguizamo, and Haley Joel Osment). They're classic works from Mamet's theatrical hayday. Probing the questionable world of men and business, crooks and crooks with suits. Both plays are stark portraits of American greed, avarice, and unbridled lust (and possible mysogony). I've always been a big fan of Mamet. Less so the films than the plays. I like Spanish Prisoner and Wag the Dog. But, don't understand the fuss over State and Main. Compared to his plays, that movie in particular seems surfacy, one-note, and clever without being anything more than that.

But let's face it, there's not a stronger force in the theater-to-Hollywood biz (well, possibly Mel Brooks) than Mamet. He's always been crafty and knew when to drop starpower into his scripts - Madonna originated the role of "Karen" in Speed the Plow (we're left only with the one name, no doubt aiding those who accuse Mamet of mysogony given that both men in the play have first and last names). Given Mamet's prestige, it's no wonder that the New York Times gave Mamet a quarter page today to opine about democracy, capitalism, and the dilemma of putting butts in seats. And despite how much I love a lot of Mamet's writing, his piece in the paper was, well, vintage Mamet. Here's a taste:

" I wrote the play some 20 years ago, when I knew little of Hollywood. I lived in the East and would go out three times a year for a day or two, and sit in Hollywood with some director or producer or studio head, and talk about some project we would make or not make, and the thing was pretty clear: the movies were an industry, staffed by craven business types interested only in making a buck.

So I went home, back East, and wrote my play. Six years ago I moved to Hollywood. I spent and spend a larger amount of my time in the Councils of the Great, both looking for backing and mucking around with some of the folks with whom I have become friends. And I found that the movies (and television) are an industry, staffed by craven business types interested only in making a buck.

And I found further a) that I am one of them; and b) that it’s a grand idea that the industry is such.

But why such heresy? Well, if I want to write a play or a book, I, as an American, am free to do so, and I’ll do so, and neither I (nor you) need anyone’s support to do so. If, however, I want to have access to an industry capable of both producing and (theoretically) distributing my work to a worldwide market, I’m going to have to go into the world of those who (by whatever means) have got the corner office and convince them why it is a good idea to part with their organization’s bucks.

Is this a bad half-hour? You bet. The alternative, however, is public financing, Public Broadcasting, and after a lifetime of experience as a viewer and 40 years as a supplicant, I swear to you I’d rather deal with Commerce (Tool of Greed) than with Public Benevolence (Tool of the State).

Here’s why: There is a limit on greed. There is no limit on the hunger for power."

Mamet's always been an unabaseded capitalist. Even while chronicalling the darkness behind a buisinessman in Glengarry Glen Ross, there is a sort of respect and awe that Mamet crafts Roma and Shelly with. And he has a point about the artistic drought on PBS. But I can't help but feel that the reason that he can utilize the best of the capitalistic system is because he is DAVID FUCKING MAMET. And I'm sure that he would argue back that were I as crafty and wily as he is I could manipulate it to my advantage as well. After all, he takes a quarter page in the New York Times to essentially promote his own work.

"But what about High Art? I, personally, don’t think it is the lookout of drama. I believe that the business of America is business, and the aim of drama is to put tushies in the seats; and that the best way to do that is to write a ripping yarn, with a bunch of sex, some nifty plot twists and a lot of snappy dialogue.

If you are looking for such, I suggest 'Speed-the-Plow.'"

So what shall we do now? Read his plays as buisness not as art or High Art? I must say that as much as I admire Mamet's writing one thing that I don't enjoy is Mamet writing about his writing.

Here's the article.

Paul Thomas Anderson Revue, Reviewed

EOGHAN:

“You know what I love? FLEA MARKETS.”

Last night, August 6th, I was among the audience at the Largo for the second and final night of comedic sketches co-written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood, Magnolia) and starring Maya Rudolph and Fred Armisen . The show, really a staged reading, comprised about a dozen vignettes, all funny, some hilarious, dealing with the failures and kooky successes of coupledom.

In one piece, two drunk lovers, fawning over each other, both want to say something, and they agree to speak simultaneously:

“I want to have a threesome.”

“I hate your family.”

The house came down.

In another, a first date grows intimate as two strangers discuss their respective “humping” of stuffed animals/pillows as adolescents. The date is a success.

These two bits, representing opposite moments in a relationship, the former the collapse of connection, the latter its formation, are both seriously funny and weirdly sincere. As was the entire revue.

Rudolph was impressive, pulling off subtlety in addition to some satisfyingly broad grimaces, and Armisen was solid as well. And, lest we forget we are in the same territory as Magnolia, Jon Brion, Anderson’s oft composer, provided off-kilter counterbalance to the performances with his live accompaniment. You can catch Brion at the Largo just about every Friday, apparently.

A few pieces petered out after their punchlines were delivered, marring otherwise brilliant builds, as when Rudolph describes, to her eager husband, in a striking version of dubbed English, her exploration of the flesh while traveling “the Orient,” but then proceeds to talk about an electric bill for a bit too long. Overall, though, these missteps were minor.

There may never be a chance to see this, but, should an opportunity present itself, I highly recommend exploring the lighter side of the man who brought us Daniel Plainview. Turns out he can do guffaw-inducing comedy better than most. Maybe he's what SNL needs.

8.3