Croak and Dagger: A Frog Blog

Where the hell have I been ?

As of late, my on-line presence has diminished to a few paltry, however pithy posting on Facebook while this blog has dried up quicker than a California water bed (a reference both timely and outdated).

The truth of the matter is I've been spending some quality time with my new frog friend. No, I didn't get a new pet and I'm not having an acid flashback. I don't think. Wait. No. I'm fine.
A few postings back I announced that my play SONG OF THE LONE PRAIRIE ( re-named SONG OF THE CANYON KID to coincide with the new book) is being produced this summer at The Great American Melodrama and Vaudeville in Oceano, California.One of the sweetest things about this is that they contacted me. I didn't solicit them.

After receiving that swell news, I took the bulls by the bouillon and sent out this script along with LA RUE'S RETURN (which I co-wrote with Ed Thorpe) to some other theaters specializing in melodrama across the country. Even though most of them picked their 2014 seasons already, I jumped the gun and submitted them for 2015. Currently these two works o' mine (and Ed's of course) are being considered at theater companies in Colorado, California, Texas and even here in Oregon for next year. I guess my query skills have improved since I got a lot of bites when I cast my line in these waters.

One establishment I contacted was actually named Mel O'Drama Theater located in Nashville and son of a gun if I didn't get a bite. Melanie Roady, the owner/operator/namesake of M O'D had particular interest in LA RUE, but after reading it decided it didn't fit her particular format. You see, her group specializes in interactive murder mysteries, something I would have known if I had only read the website instead of taking the name at face value. What do you want from me? If I go to Barney's Beanery, I expect to see beans on the menu, not cupcakes.

However, Mel had a proposition for me. Would I like to try my hand at one of her shows based on her outline? Oh and by the way, the main character is a frog who solves the crime.

"Why sure," I agreed. "Wait a hippity-hoppity second here...a frog? A frog frog? Is this a Muppet murder mystery? Oh, a frog man. Like a scuba diver. Nooo...a man with frog-like characteristics. Okayyyyy...."

Francois is a character created in a series of paintings by artist Jann Harrison who also resides in Nashville. Jann has conceived a whole mythology that go along with each piece she's painted. So Francois is a suave, debonair bon vivant who is, to use her words, "a man in transition".
 http://www.jannharrison.com/

I agreed to pen a script but I was under a very tight deadline and the challenge itself proving rather daunting. Murder mysteries are not my first love and red herrings do not sit well in my tummy tum tum. Then to transform this man-frog, frog-man, lily pad lover to the stage and make him palatable as a main character was just icing on the fish cake.

What prompted me to continue was that the story was set in New Orleans, the same setting for LA RUE.which is what interested the producer in the first place. I'm crazy in love with the culture an lore of  N'Awlins and had the good fortune of just finishing up the finale episodes of TREME and the current season of AMERICAN HORROR STORY (which unfortunately ended very weakly). So I added Mardi Gras to the storyline as well as a touch of voodoo here and some Cajun spice there.
After two and a half weeks of banging my head against the wall trying to figure out the intricacies of who killed who and with what and how , I turned in a script with two possible endings (different killers for different nights). Challenge accepted, challenge met. Now it's time for some fine tuning.

What I didn't realize is that the show has already been pre-booked. Mel Roady got shows lined up for this froggy lil' epic beginning APRIL 12! And there's my name, prominently in the credits.

Such is the power of networking. I scored another gig. 2014 will see two separate productions on either side of the United States written by (ahem) Scott Cherney.

And I'm hungry for more

UPDATE: THE PERILS OF FRANCOIS has been re-named DEAD TUESDAY,  thanks to Jerri Wiseman of the StageCoach Theatre Company

DEAD TUESDAY is available at SCOTT CHERNEY'S STORE or to read a free excerpt go to my website WRITTEN BY SCOTT CHERNEY

Performance rights are available. For info, write to me : writtenbysc@gmail.com

Tell 'em Francois sent ya.

National Lampoon's Staycation

Last week, I took some time off (or gave myself a time out, whichever the case may be) for some much needed R n' R. This is something I ridiculously consider a luxury because, quite honestly, I never give this particular sucker an even break and consider PTO so valuable that I don't want to spend a minute. But since accumulation of same is maxed out, necessity became the mother of reinvention as my brain pan was coated with over-cooked reality. Thus, I withdrew some hours and took a vacation. Since I didn't leave town, per se, one clever ass in the hat has dubbed this a "stay-cation". This was probably the same Alexandre Dumb-Ass who also came up with "bromance" and calls sandwiches "sammies".

In true Cherney style,, the week began with just about every electronic device in my possession going on the fritz-phone, computer, cable TV-and almost immediately, I went apoplectic and damn near suicidal with fears of what next might crap out. I wanted to beat them to the punch and depart this world before they did because I JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Technology is not my my friend. Oh, who am I kidding? My nemesis is basically anything with moving parts. I probably have an Neanderthal ancestor who fretted when the fire burned out and poured out his guts on a cave wall.   

"How fire work? Oh, woe is Kronk."

Kronk Cherney, caveman blogger.

Of course as I post these thoughts online, the irony is just so very...over-bearing. And my angst? Over-dramatic, to say the least and the least said the better. Yes, I over-reacted as everything returned to what I considered normal and you can all just consider these the rantings and ravings of One Whiny Bitch. That's what they used to call Kronk.

Frankly, I just wanted my cable back. There was a bountiful feast of programs just waiting for me and I wanted to gorge since I finally had the time to do so. I got my greedy little wish and dove in head-first. I caught up on TREME, BOARDWALK EMPIRE, LOUIE, HOMELAND, SONS OF ANARCHY, DOCTOR WHO (guest starring my buddy the great Mike McShane), HELL ON WHEELS to name just a few.

You have your choice of two quotes here.

Jimmy Kimmel at this year's Emmy telecast: "There's a lot of great stuff on. I'm going to have to go out less."
or
Woody Allen in ANNIE HALL: "And eventually, you grow old and die."

Both actually apply.

HONEY BOO BOO aside, this really is the Platinum Age of television. No longer the Vast Wasteland, unless you count Bravo and TLC, TV has it all over the movies these days and that pains me to even consider those words.

This is why I am so over the moon about BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD,  the brilliant first film from director Benh Zeitlin that has actually restored my faith in the future of cinema once again. This fanciful tale of the Louisiana bayou told through a child's eyes grabbed me from the first frame to the last, a near-perfect fusion of fantasy and reality. Its sultry atmosphere and dreamy ambiance just wrapped me up and transported me to another world in time and place. That's where cinema-GOOD cinema-has the upper hand over television. Zeitlin's is one of the finest debuts from an American filmmaker since Terrence Malick's BADLANDS back in the Seventies (a film I don't think Malick has exceeded). But BEASTS would be only half as good without the extraordinary once-in-a-lifetime performance from Quvenzhané Wallis as the fierce heroine Hush-Puppy. Forget Batman and all of The Avengers. Hush-Puppy is the true super-heroine of summer 2012. She is one fierce Beast.

The rest of the week included stops at Portland culinary destinations like Bunk Sandwiches and Chef Andy Ricker's Pok Pok knock-off, the Whiskey Soda Lounge. This latter featured Vietnamese bar food like those amazing fish sauce chicken wings as well as a dish called Miang Cham-chilies, ginger, peanuts, dried shrimp, lime, shallot and coconut all minced and wrapped up in a betel leaves. A one bite wonder.

To justify an annual membership fee, the week finished at the Portland Art Museum for the new show, The Body Beautiful, presented in conjunction with the British Museum. The Body Beautiful is a collection of Greek and Roman art, much of it never seen before in the U.S. Yes, it's the kind of show that make you want to clap your hands together and chant "Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!" But as usual, what sticks in my craw (which is found right up my ass) is the General Public. At what point in time has it been acceptable to bring a camera or even use one's phone as such in a goddamn art museum? I don't want a bunch of rubes flashing their doo-dads like a spastic paparazzi when I'm trying to enjoy the fucking art. The Gossip Girls posing with the discus thrower just about made me lose my Miang Cham. Does everything have to be chronicled and documented instead of just experienced? (Yes, I'm blogging about it. Irony. Yeah, we already covered that. Move on.) What's next PAM...laser tag? Cameras in art museums, wham bam, no thank you, PAM.

And finally, the grand finale of the week was a personal triumph for your humble narrator. I actually did some damn writing that didn't involve blogging, posting or anything online. I finished the first draft of my next book, even rocked it old school by penning it all in long-hand. Now the real hard part begins as I move on to the next level by trying read my own scribbling. Does anybody know Sanscrit?

To the right is a visual clue about said future magnum opus.

Let me tell you something, my friends. Getting back to basics sure felt good. I'm actually kind of proud of myself for the first time in awhile.

And THAT was a good week off. Or as Cronk Cherney would have said:

"Beats working for living."

2011: All God's Chillun Go to Hebbin

Gosh, an honest-to-blog year-end wrap-up complete with Top Ten lists and everything...

Let's not and say we did.

The truth of the matter is that I'm not really feeling reflective at the moment, odd given the time of year. I suppose my lack of interest in this matter is given to the fact that I engage in this on a daily basis and frankly, I need a bit of a break and so do the rest of you. Can't we just forward with out looking back for a change? I'm not saying "Let's ignore history!" and embrace the ephemeral like the rest of society. No, I'm not conforming to the status quo. I'm just a little sick and tired of instant nostalgia. I want to earn my memories, not cater to them. As for those that I have, I'll wear them like badges of honor, leaving for more as times goes by because it ain't over 'til I sez it's over.

As for what I consider the Best of 2011, I feel ambivalent even mentioning them since it's just more of the same. I can say that the best movie I saw in theaters this year was Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris, but the ambiance and my frame of mind had just about everything to do with that choice. I saw it in Brooklyn (Woody's hometown) and I was on one of the best vacations of my entire life. The Book of Mormon was the best live theater event for me this year but once again, I saw it on Broadway and it was the only show I attended this year. (It's still superb, by the way) Do you need to know that I believe Breaking Bad had to be, hands down, the finest TV show of the year and one of the greatest entire seasons in broadcast history, every single episode a knockout? Well, now you do. I also echo just about the entire critical conclave when I say that TV outdid movies AGAIN this year, especially with shows like Treme, Justified, Louie, American Horror Story and Game of Thrones. Music-wise, I stand by my own assessment and choose as my favorite song Dig a Little Deeper from Moonshine Willy's 1998 album Bastard Child and if I hear Adele's Rolling in the Deep one more time, I am going to totally lose my shit. At my age, that's no idle threat. Book-wise, I'll gladly mention Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and hey, an actual title from 2011- Laura Hillebrand's brutally brilliant World War II survival non-fiction work, Unbroken. (Okay. I cheated. I didn't list a Top Ten, just some highlights. I guess I just couldn't resist. Old habits die hard.)

I will look back on 2011 fondly and with gritted teeth. The hardships have increased but it really does make the blessings that much sweeter. And no blessing was greater than the new girl in my life, my incredibly beautiful granddaughter Aefa, born May 31, 2011. It is because of Aefa and what she represents that I will greet 2012 with arms wide open. And that something is hope and with that, I can endure.

To you and yours out there, I wish the same. If you've never had it, find it. If you lost it, reclaim it. Hope will makes us stronger. Hope will allow us to move on. Hope will help us survive. It beats the holy hell out of surrendering.

As always, be good to each other and please be good to yourselves. You deserve it. We all do.

Happy New Year, gang. See you on the other side

Oh My Gaga

Hope y'all had a swell Mother's Day, at least half as good as we did this year. It kinda gave me a warm fuzzy feeling all over, enough to counteract the mishegoss of the last little while. Adding to the family-friendly atmosphere of this past weekend was a lotta Gaga. HBO ran the Lady's Monster Ball Tour special taped at Madison Garden in a marathon 24 hour showing from Saturday night to Sunday. I never usually watch concerts since I get bored less than half-way through. 'Twasn't the case here. This girl doesn't have time for dull stretches. That girl's fierce energy is contagious! Not only did I watch it the whole hour and 55 minutes show, but also watched the encore about three extra times.

Love that BORN THIS WAY finale. I know it's pretty derivative of TLC's WATERFALLS and Madonna'a EXPRESS YOURSELF, but I cannot resist its heart and soul...or the Gaga either. To me, she is the next step on the evolutionary staircase. Cher begat Madonna, Madonna begat Gaga and on the 7th day, She was exhausted.

 

The Bestest of the Best-2010 Edition

Let's light this candle!

FILM
After a decade long re-education in the subject of film, 2010 made me feel like a total slacker. I caught up with some long sought classics like Wolfgang Peterson's DAS BOOT, David Lean's version of Dickens' GREAT EXPECTATIONS and Werner Herzog's brilliant remake of NOSFERATU. Other swell films on my list: Chan-Wook Park's THIRST, the hysterical Nazi zombie extravaganza DEAD SNOW (Ein! Zwie! DIE!) and Martin Scrosese's ode to Val Lewton, SHUTTER ISLAND. I ventured into an actual cinema only twice, a significant drop in attendance from years past. For this I can only attribute to a general malaise. (You remember him, don't you? General Malaise led the forces into Afghanistan...well, he wanted to, but he was too depressed to leave home.)
So I am WAY behind and therefore unqualified to even speak about the year in film, but that hasn't stopped me before, has it? As usual, here goes nothing. AVATAR, the great 3-D savior of 21st century cinema was actually more than worth the hype and praise foisted upon it, even if it disappears like so much cotton candy in retrospect. It took six months for me to go out again and this time I was rewarded with what I will name the #1 film of 2010: Christopher Nolan's sensational epic INCEPTION, a rare action blockbuster with both brains and heart. The finale had to be one of the finest in recent memory, again a rarity for a film over 2 1/2 hours in length. The one movie that stayed with me more than anything was Spike Jonzes' adaptation of WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, a superb children's film for adults. I know it's a 2009 release, but why are you so hung up on time, hmmm?
TV
Another outstanding year of television helped make 2010 a little more tolerable, especially on the original programming side…and away from the dregs of the broadcast networks. (Don’t preach the gospel of GLEE to me. I’m not a fan. Without its musical numbers, it bores me to horrors.) The usual suspects: MAD MEN, BREAKING BAD, RESCUE ME, SONS OF ANARCHY, TRUE BLOOD, NURSE JACKIE and THE UNITED STATES OF TARA all had excellent seasons. These joined by swell newcomers like THE WALKING DEAD, JUSTIFIED, LOUIE, MEN OF A CERTAIN AGE and BOARDWALK EMPIRE.
Best of the bunch:
HBO’s TREME, the saga of New Orleans, post-Katrina and pre-oil spill. Superb performances by Wendell Pierce, Khandi Alexander, Clarke Peters, Melissa Leo, John Goodman, and (surprise surprise surprise) Steve Zahn, of all people. I never cared much for Zahn before as an actor, but his wily characterization won me over. He was featured what I consider to be the best TV moment all year, a rousing rendition of “Shame, Shame, Shame”, an ode to the government’s response to the disaster that hit that area not so very long ago. TREME was moving, rousing and always compelling a worthy successor to David Simon's masterpiece THE WIRE. Like its predecessor, TREME was criminally robbed of any sort of Emmy consideration. Stinking Philistines....
MUSIC
It was the Year of the Gaga and I’m fine with that. She’s brought the fun back to the music world. Meat dress? You go, nutjob! At least the Lady has the talent to back it up. She starts taking herself seriously and I am outta here. But if she keeps giving us lines like: “I want your ugly, I want your disease, I want everything as long as it's free, I want your love…” then she has a fan in me. I’m also a bit gaga for Florence and the Machine’s “Dog Days”. Flo’s like the next generation of Annie Lennox, though she actually looks like the illegitimate daughter of Andy Warhol superstar Viva. But really, what’s better than Cee-Lo Green’s “Fuck You”? Nothing.
BOOKS
On the non-fiction side, I was enthralled by THE BIG BURN: TEDDY ROOSEVELT AND THE FIRE THAT SAVED AMERICA by Timothy Egan and SIN THE SECOND CITY: MADAMS, MINISTERS,PLAYBOYS AND THE BATTLE FOR AMERICA'S SOUL by Karen Abbot. The best: THE LOST CITY OF Z: A TALE OF DEADLY OBSESSION IN THE AMAZON by David Grann. On the fiction front, my new favorite author has to be Nick Hornby for his books SLAM and JULIET, NAKED. I also to an inordinate amount of audio books this year since I am on the road so very much, my very favorites being Tom Wolfe’s BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES and my numero uno, Jeremy Iron’s unbelievably superb reading of Nabokov’s LOLITA, a one man performance of the highest caliber.
RADIO
The very best interviewer in the entire broadcast industry is Terry Gross on NPR’s FRESH AIR, a talk show I used to avoid for fear it would lull me to sleep while driving. How wrong could one be. At first listen, Gross sounds like everyone’s least favorite mousy substitute teacher, but she overcomes this impression with her sharp insights and often brilliant observations with her wide range of guests. I don’t listen to every show, but I give everyone a chance no matter what the subject matter because FRESH AIR has won me over more times than not and I end up actually learning something in the process. Amazing what an open mind can accomplish.
As for the WORST of 2010….I’d rather forget it, thank you very much.
You’re welcome.