WE ALL HOWL NOW

We all howl here now. Every night. I don't how it started. I saw a post on FB saying everyone howl at 8pm. Maybe it was to protest something. Or to cheer first responders and doctors and those on the front lines of this thing. Or to mock it. Really not sure at all. But, on April Fool's Day, as we were sitting out front at 8pm, people started to howl. All over the neighborhood. Like a large, spread out, insane pack of wolves under a magic moon. Or coyotes. I do love tricksters, so maybe it was coyotes. Spontaneously, we joined in the howling. It lasted for several minutes. Just letting our pent up fear and confusion and joy and love all out. Like a primal scream, which is a thing you sometimes have to do in acting class. No thinking, no affectation, just reach into your core of being an scream, letting whatever is in there out. So, each night since then, the neighborhood howls. So far, it still feels real, something that has just come to be out of the given circumstances. Soon, no doubt, it will be formalize, a thing to do like one of the many online challenges or watching Tiger King. There will be expectation put to do, and most likely the magic will be gone. Still fun and weird and different, but not quite the same. And later, after all this has passed, and the movies and tv shows and books come out, there will be attempts to recreate it. I wonder if they will succeed?

Last night, on the advice of A. O. Scott and Manohla Dargis on the NY Times, we watched His Girl Friday. One of those "here's something to do" articles, which suggested watching the film, having friends do the same, and then group discussion after the week end. Yes, formalized and not spontaneous, but still fun and weird different. So we did it. What a friggin' great movie! I can't believe how fast the dialogue is, how sharp and interesting and overlapping and exciting. Puts David Mamet to shame. Hell, puts all of us writers to shame. It is intense, funny, vicious, kind, and keeps you leaning in. It must have been an influence on so many actors and directors and screenwriters. It is one of those movies I have always meant to watch but never had. I think we all have movies, shows, and books we mean to get to but haven't yet. That's life, I suppose. One of the nicer things about quarantine lite is catching up on some of my list. There is this one scene in particular that seems like it could be on some cutting show on HBO or Netflix, where this woman is freaking out, crying and pleading with this rough group of reporters, and they are all treating her like crap because they need to keep their distance and be objective reporters, and they ignore her and make fun of her and it's awful, and then she rips them a new one and leaves. The scene is madness, lots of quips and accusations, all coming out very fast and intensely. Finally, the woman leaves, and it is suddenly very quiet, and all the reporters let their tough facade drop, and it is very sad and lonely in that room. So good. And Rosalind Russell is a rock star, as is Cary Grant. I highly recommend this movie.

Today, I start one of my teaching gigs back up, but online. Three groups of young film makers, all stuck at home, with a desire to create and a need to express themselves. I don't know exactly what will happen, but I'm excited. I think right now, we need to express ourselves, to vent and venerate, to scream and shout and sing made up madrigals on the joys of binge watching and news cycles and nature making a come back despite our best efforts to kill her. So we will create movies and clips and talk to each other and see where we are at and do what we can do.

And we howl.

Here's a song.