“Sure, musical theater has its own style, but this film does more than remix sounds — it remixes reality.”
That profundity is from a Washington Post audition, er ..opinion piece, written by someones the vast swath of humanity has never heard of, about someone most people have heard of… and that’s the point.
“Remixing reality” is evidently a bad thing. That’s not supposed to happen. Well, no. Not in movies. Not in Hollywood.
Here we are, reading the Washington Post as if this was a fair fight. Or a fair takedown. Or learned criticism of a film…or written by someone who has some actual depth of authority or prowess in theater or film.
Possibly the authors of this audition..sorry, opinion piece fell asleep in film class, but “remixing reality” is the point of art. Particularly musical theater. Your reality is your art. Your art is your reality. Your story is yours to tell…. cuz there ain’t no one else to tell it. But you. You own it.
Not any more.
How about a piece of the pie? Your slice of the American dream? Or maybe some crumbs that might get your play produced. Or more listeners for your podcast. Or clicks. How about getting famous?
💰 💴 💵?
Wow.
This too can be yours for the low, low price of entitled commandeering of another person’s artistic expression in the Washington Post.
They’re gonna tell you how to cast your film, who to cast, and how to tell your story.
Your story. Your story-ish.They will, through pop-grievance, attach themselves like a carbuncle to your vision, and your money. And your reputation.
This isn’t about legitimate criticism, oops, I used “legitimate”… let’s say debating the rather derivative music, or some wonky lyrics. Or examining direction, editing or performance.
This audition piece…sorry, opinion piece in the Washington Post is not about art.
It’s about contempt.
Delivered on the woke wings of identity politics. A shortcut to getting yours….and all you have to do is write an um, opinion piece, or open letter or a Medium blog, load it in the cyber ethergun , aim, and pull the trigger.
The coolest thing is you don’t have to work.
I lived in Washington Heights in the 80’s… it was the only place I could remotely afford.
Goddammit I’m not in this movie! I’m not represented. In a wokey perspective , if you blinked you’d miss any reference to gayness.
I’m good with that. I’m really ok. I’ll be ok. It’s not my movie.
What I’m not ok with is the esteemed Miranda attaching his name to this:
That’s an excerpt from one of the many Dear_______ open letter screeds of late. This one is “We See You White American Theater” that he put his John Hamilton Hancock on. Voluntarily.
Part of the equation du jour, it seems, is the mistaken impression that somehow everyone else is getting ahead in theater and film. Or exploiting everyone else. Particularly, in his boogeyman argument, gay white men. Or, their “whitewashing” power scenario….. The truth is there’s a 92% unemployment rate among union actors in theater at any given time. It’s similar in film and TV. If anyone would bother to look at the 8% who do work you would find a vast array of ethnicities that are broadly represented, both in performance and programming. Can that be better for the many marginalized groups in the world? Sure, it could be better.
Show biz is hard. For everybody. It’s not a democracy. It never will be. A democracy is a democracy. Now maybe not so much but…..
We will now take a commercial break.
“In the Heights” isn’t real. It’s not really about Washington Heights. It’s a movie.
I find it fascinating, and rather satisfying frankly, that it’s Lin’s turn in the woke dunking booth.
I had mine.
I learned a lot. What I didn’t have is his money to insulate me from the profound damage having your art..your soul, your work ripped apart by people who feel entitled to do that under the guise of equity.
The truth is, it’s really not about equity, or representation at all.
I created a musical called “Southern Comfort”, based on the exquisite film. It was a ten year journey of joys and love and thrills and lows and just a fuckload of work and time and ideas and pitches and laying out money I didn’t really have for rights and lawyers and yada yada.
And raising a fuckload of other people’s money to make it happen.
The pot of gold at the end of that ten year rainbow was a production at the Public Theater.
Thrilling, right?
It was. Until an open letter to the Public nearly got the show canceled.
Dear _________
The letter was signed by People Who Consider Themselves Trans Activists … because the love story I was so on fire to tell happened to mainly involve trans people.
Oh, before the letter, and after the announcement the show would premiere at the Public, I was confronted at a very fancy fundraiser for the LGBTQ community while I was eating dinner. I was screamed at, snapped at, had fingers in my face, called a rich, white Republican.. I mean, c’mon …
I was meant to be humiliated. Hobbled. Destroyed. Hurt.
We all huddled over the Christmas holidays that year to try and save the show… and the CYA to the PWCTTA was to postpone the opening and have a town hall.
Another commercial break
The Public theater is where “Hamilton” had premiered the year before.
I was excited at the prospect of a dialogue with the trans community….I’d already had many. For the opportunity to explain my art, defend it. Advocate for it. The show hadn’t opened yet. I wanted to meet people.
It was my idea. My vision. My money(and so many others). My decade of work. “Southern Comfort” was my property. I was very proud of it.
The day before the town hall, I was called in to the line producer’s office at the Public. I thought we were going to continue our strategy and conversations around saving my show.
“We won’t allow you to speak at the town hall” she bluntly stated. “You will hear untrue, pretty horrible stuff about you and your show and we will not permit you to speak.”
“We’d like for you to attend though.”
It took me so long to whimper a faint “fuck you”.
In my head. I mean, I was at the premiere theater probably in the planet. I was a good boy and nodded.
The Town Hall, as you might have imagined by now, was more than less an extended audition for PWCTTA to pitch their shows, and themselves, to Oskar Eustis, the legendary Artistic Director of the Public. That’s pretty much it…
They were there for their piece of the fame pie, served piping hot atop a grievance platter on my back.
I’m still fodder for the Dear_______ open letters 5 years later. My heart still drops when I see them. I’ve now graduated to not being “authentic”’as a human being, and not a rich white Republican. Progress!
“In the Heights” flopped at the box office. I suppose you could argue well, it’s a musical and audiences aren’t into them at the moment. I don’t know. If I had to guess, the failure to draw an audience was perhaps a double whammy of being bludgeoned by diversity school and audition pieces from the flip side in Wapo and The NY Times etc. instructing people how wrong this film is. They combine for a cinematic 🚫.
It’s a pretty wonderful film by the way. Beautiful performances. Great choreography. I’m not sure if that matters.
I’m not sure if that matters is exactly what I’ve learned.
Robert DuSold 
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